Dear Harry
by Unicorn13
Summary: A prophecy was made by the descendant of a great Seer, destining two lovers for each other. Sometimes, though, fate needs more than a little nudge to fulfill itself.
1. The Notebook

**Dear Harry**

_Heart broken once and again_

_Is broken once more_

_Three times loved, three times hurt_

_One true love to heal the pain_

_He who defeated the Dark Lord _

_Will be the one to love her forevermore..._

"_Remember Cedric Diggory. Remember a kind, honest boy who strayed into Voldemort's path..."_

_Heart broken once..._

Mrs. Chang stared out the window tensely, hand impulsively clutching the windowsill. She'd heard the panicked rumors, and listened to one variation of the story after another, each one twisting the others, but she would wait. She would wait until Cho came home, and then she would learn the truth; Professor Dumbledore would see to it that every student at Hogwarts knew the solid, undeniable facts.

Who knew? Perhaps the Diggory boy wasn't dead after all. They were only rumors, thus far. But as her husband led her daughter up the steps to the manor, she knew that they were at least partly true. Paling considerably, she rushed towards the entrance hall, impatiently throwing open the double doors before any house-elf could arrive and found herself face-to-face with her equally ashen daughter.

"My baby... my baby," she murmured, a tear trickling down her cheek as she pulled her only child close. "I know. And I understand..."

Cho had mechanically put her arms around her concerned mother at first, but at those last words, she visibly stiffened and wrenched herself out of the embrace, a furiously incredulous look on her face. Backing away, she stole one last look at her parents and then made a mad dash up the stairs to her bedroom.

"You understand? _You_ understand?" her eyes had asked. Flinging open her bedroom door, she slammed it behind herself and stumbled, half-blinded by tears, to her four-poster bed before collapsing on it and crying as if she was going to die. She wished that she were dying. Her heart had been split into two, throbbing with an unthinkable ache and she could only think about him. His smile. His charm. How he'd cared about her when every other boy had only pursued her for the physical benefits, how he'd looked beyond the prettiness outside to the beauty within, and loved her for her brain more than for her looks. He was her first and only love. And now he was gone.

"Come back," she moaned piteously, sobs shaking her entire body; she continued to cry until she had almost no strength left.

"Please, come back," she whispered, closing her eyes.

He wasn't coming back and her mind knew that. But who in the world could possibly explain it to her heart?

* * *

"Go on, dear, blow out the candles."

Her sixteenth birthday had come. A large elaborate cake sat in front of her, looking exquisite and breathtaking with exactly sixteen candles, all lit. Her mother had insisted once again to take matters of her daughter's birthday cake into her own hands, refusing to accept help and yet still managing to make one of the most beautiful cakes Cho had ever seen in her entire life. And now it was time for her to blow out the candles.

She took a deep breath and prepared herself to extinguish each flickering flame when her mother held out a hand to stop her.

"Don't forget to make a wish," she reminded her gently.

Of course, the birthday wish... how could she have forgotten? In her childhood years she'd spend the days before her birthday dreaming, building her castles in the air and wondering what she'd wish for before she blew out the candles on her cake. The novelty of the entire concept of birthday wishes coming true had long worn off, and it had been quite a while since she last believed in it. She stifled a snort. What would she wish for this time, a doll? A mansion the size of Gringotts?

It had always been a matter of imagination for her, thinking up what to wish for on her birthday. Butterflies, fairies, and unicorns danced around in her head and immediately came to mind before her Hogwarts days, and afterwards she'd innocently wished for a brand-new broomstick. Her Comet was definitely what she hadn't been envisioning, but it served its purpose, so she held her tongue about it, remembering her traditional values of respect for her parents.

And then the thought came to her, unbidden and unexpected. Cedric. She could wish for him to come back; she could, but it wouldn't happen. Tears threatened to trickle down her cheeks as the sight of her parents and the cake and gifts and blurred as water welled up in her eyes. She forced them down, a motion she would come to regret later when all her pent-up emotions set off in an explosion at the precise moment when she didn't want them to. It wouldn't do to look so ungrateful when her parents had tried so hard to please her and to make this a nice and memorable birthday. She finally decided just to wish for a new broom, even though she didn't expect or particularly need one.

Saying nothing, she forced a smile, pretended to think, and then blew out all her candles in one breath as her parents cheered and applauded.

Being the birthday girl, she was served the first slice of cake and, although it was as delicious as usual, she couldn't help but feel that each bite became increasingly difficult to swallow, like glue moving slowly down her throat. Perhaps it was from all her efforts not to cry.

"Now presents," her mother said, whisking away Cho's plate as soon as she had finished and turned down seconds.

They were the usual pretty trinkets: a new set of dress robes, the series of books she originally meant to buy once she'd saved enough money, little hair accessories charmed to make her hair-dressing less time-consuming with even nicer results. Cho gasped nonetheless as she lifted a heart-shaped locket out of its cushioning layers of tissue paper.

"It's pure gold," informed Mr. Chang proudly as he studied his daughter's expression.

"We spent days trying to find it for you. It's a Love Locket," explained Mrs. Chang.

"But Mum, I thought those were supposed to be a load of—" Cho began, frowning.

"Most of them are, yes. That's what took us so long to find it; it's real," nodded her mother.

"So, technically, it's not supposed to open until I find my one true love?" asked Cho skeptically, examining the ornate etchings on the gold.

"Yes and no," replied her father mysteriously.

She frowned slightly and looked at it a few moments more, turning it over in her hands before unclasping the chain and fastening it around her neck.

Her last present was, indeed, an intriguing little mystery within itself.

"This one may look simple, but the real beauty of it is that you can write whatever you want in it; there are no rules or directions on how you must use it," said Mr. Chang, handing the flat package to her.

With an inquiring look at her parents, she carefully slipped her fingernail underneath each piece of Spellotape, making sure, as with all her presents, that she never ripped the paper.

It was a notebook.

A plain, everyday thing, with no extraordinary traits, only a blue and silver cover and back, and most likely one of the least expensive items that could be purchased at any stationery supply store. She opened the cover and thoughtfully thumbed through the blank pages, musing at what would be written on each as time passed by, remembering her father's words about the possibilities that it held. No rules or restrictions except for that of her own mind.

"Thank you Mum, Dad. I've had a lovely birthday. I'll go put everything away upstairs," she thanked finally, placing a kiss on her each of her parents' cheeks.

"Be sure to change into your new robes for the concert we're taking you to tonight," called Mrs. Chang.

"Yes, Mother!" replied her daughter from the foot of the staircase, just outside the dining room. She tactfully willed herself not to seem reluctant to go, since her parents had been looking forward to hearing the classical compositions they favored above all other music. Besides, the fact that the entire orchestra consisted of only one person certainly made it all the more interesting.

"They grow up so fast," sighed Mrs. Chang once her daughter's footsteps had faded. A stray streamer floated down from the ceiling and landed beside the stack of wrapping paper on the polished mahogany tabletop.

"It's the way of life," shrugged her husband, reclining in his high-backed chair.

"My only hope is that our blossom will find happiness in hers," she whispered, taking his hand in hers.

He squeezed her hand gently in reassurance, saying, "You are sure of the prophecy? After all, your gift seems prone to jump from generation to generation; Cho doesn't seem to have your ability."

"Divination is one of the most imprecise and unclear arts of magic," she waved away impatiently. "But I'm absolutely sure of the prophecy."

"And the notebook?"

"She'll find it more useful in the future than she does now."

* * *

A/N: Pretty short, I know, but the chapters will get longer, I promise! Or maybe they'll get longer with each new review I receive... hmm... also, the uploading feature on this site can be a bit strange at times, so any merging of sections in each chapter is not due to laziness, but because of the strangeness of the little bugs that attack once I get my chapters up. Please take pity on me and review! 


	2. The Letters Begin

**Chapter 2**

…_and again_

It was more than she could bear. Life seemed to insist upon being cruel to her, on dangling her emotions from a string that seemed fragile enough to snap at any moment, particularly the most inopportune ones. Grief had been the simplest and most potent feeling she had been capable of for the longest time, and it had slowly become her comforter, her anchor; it kept the walls from closing in on her and her lifelines severed when she felt the most lost at sea. She hadn't been prepared to fall for someone ever again.

Harry. Such a simple name, and a fairly common one at that, but it would never again be just another form of recognition to her, a bland and informal title. It almost became her obsession. At times she wished that she could just blend into the stone walls of the school or become invisible, just so that she could watch him without any sort of intervention or fear of being discovered and embarrassed. Once she'd observed him as he'd quickly done his homework at breakfast, managing to joke around with his friends at different intervals, and to take a bite or sip.

His slender, agile hand darted quickly across the paper, leaving behind masses and masses of words that she hadn't the ability to decipher, given her distance from him. He worked earnestly, although certainly hurriedly, and there was something about his figure as he bent over his work that immediately struck her as attractive. While physical features most definitely made the first most notable impression on her, studious qualities only seemed to enhance them further in a more positive light, an unusual whim of hers that she supposed had something to do with her affiliation to the house of Ravenclaw. Cedric had been a hard worker as well.

She felt like a traitor. There was no other word for the self-loathing she viewed herself with. Cedric would have died a thousand times over again for her, had he lived, and she found herself already moving on to Harry, who could just barely look her in the eye, as though he felt that he couldn't imagine himself worthy of her gaze. Memories of Cedric became clouded over with visions of Harry Potter, stammering a nervous hello, watching her wistfully with his full emerald eyes. Guilt turned her stomach over again at the reminder of why she'd become interested in Harry in the first place.

Her need for the details of Cedric's last living moments had driven her to the conclusion that Harry, being the only one who really truly knew anything about what had happened on the night of the third task, would logically be the only one who'd be of any assistance. A burning curiosity for the knowledge was soon replaced with interest.

He fancied her. It was evident from the moment that she'd set foot in his train compartment on the way back to Hogwarts for her sixth year that he had some clumsily hidden feelings for her. Shock was the initial emotion that swept over her, but once it had retreated to make way for other thoughts, she felt slightly intrigued and proud. Of course, she'd had her thoughts and speculations on exactly why he'd asked her specifically, out of all the possible candidates at Hogwarts, to be his date for the Yule Ball. A polite apology had sufficed at the moment, and yet… she found herself wondering over why she'd been his choice. She knew very well now, and was startled to find that she was beginning to return the feelings.

It had to be her damned curiosity that would get in the way of her almost inevitable happiness, that gnawing need to know about the death that neither she nor Harry seemed quite ready to discuss openly. When the time came that she'd worked up enough courage to ask, it had been the wrong moment, the wrong place, yet again, and Harry had closed up to her, when she needed the knowledge the most, to be at peace with herself and her battling emotions.

She knew already that she would never be able to breathe easily again until she had known more about Cedric's death. Did he die defying the Dark Lord and bravely holding his head up high while the deadliest of the Unforgivable curses was being performed on him, or did he cower behind something before running in a fruitless attempt to escape and being shot down, so to speak, in the process? Was it quick, or was he tortured first? Was an Unforgivable curse even used? Did he mention her at all before he died? Did he have time to? All of these questions swam in her head, clouding her other thoughts and refusing to be cleared until they were answered.

The hatred she felt for herself always seemed to find new reasons to plague her. Her sudden lack of intelligent thought and speech whenever Harry was within fifty feet of her, for instance, had been the cause for more than just embarrassment in front of her classmates, as well as Harry. It had been the cause of the many nights she'd spent in her bed, wide awake with the troubling thoughts of how much idiocy she'd subjected herself to that day in an attempt to give him a reason to glance her way. If she said things that she regretted later, she assured herself that Harry was there to stay and that he thought the world of her, but the idea of it seemed overly confident and gloating.

Every time he spoke to her, an entire acrobatic circus rampaged through her insides, twisting and writhing them in ways she never imagined possible, while her heart seemed ready to tear its way right out of her body with its furious thumping. She desperately needed to divulge to someone all the contradictory feelings that were giving her no peace during the night and endless frustration during the day. But to whom could she confide about this? Surely not any of her so-called friends; they would spread whatever she said far and wide in the form of gossip, trying to make their shallow lives have a little bit more worth. They could be nice, each in their own little way, but when it came to being true friends, she doubted the words co-existed in their vocabularies.

She was struggling with these inner demons yet again one lonely Saturday as she was lying down on her bed in the 6th year girls' dormitory and not a single soul was in sight, all of them being readily occupied with the task of relaxing in Hogsmeade on their day off. Swearing out loud, she had to fight an almost irresistible urge to turn her trunk over on the floor upside-down and angrily pitched the nearest thing she could get her hands on across the room. The book sailed through the air and disrupted the organized state of her desk, for which she reluctantly stood and went to attend to.

An unbidden tear fell from her eyes that she quickly wiped away before she stooped down to pick up her things off of the floor. Scooping her papers and other trifles into her arms and dumping them on the table, she fell back into the wooden chair that accompanied the desk and sighed heavily. Quickly scanning the floor for any signs of something she'd overlooked in her hasty tidy-up, the largest object that caught her eye was the blue and silver notebook.

She picked it up and did exactly as she had done when she'd first unwrapped it, turning it over in her hands and flipping through the pages absently. She'd almost inevitably forgotten about the notebook, and wondered why she hadn't noticed it sooner, since she could have been putting it to use in one of her classes. There had always been a suspicious thought lurking in the depths of her mind, she finally allowed herself to admit, which had immediately emerged when she'd first held it. Her parents were always the most sensible and rational people she'd ever known, and they had always had some reason for every single thing they did and said, although their logic was certainly not as consistently explained to her. As with everything, there had to be a catch, a little hint as to why she'd gotten such an ordinary gift among all her other treasures. It must have been meant for something special.

Perhaps her parents had meant for her to write letters to them in it while she was at school.

She snorted at the thought.

Not only did they write her epic novels, but they also sent her enough parchment enclosed in their own letters to ensure that she did the same.

Letters…

Of course. The only person she could feel better from telling her feelings would be Harry.

She rashly shoved the items that littered her desk aside, knocking most of the ones she'd just gathered together back on the floor again. Setting down the notebook in the cleared space, she hunted through her belongings for a pot of ink and quill. Finally despairing of finding the expensive quill she'd been searching for, she settled for the next best pen and opened the front cover of the notebook, dipping the tip of her quill in the well of blue ink she'd dug up from the pile. Pausing with her pen poised in a hovering position above the clean, smooth paper, she wondered how to begin. Feelings flooded her senses and triggered some mechanism in her mind and hand, and she soon found, much to her surprise, that the words came out as easily as if she'd been planning them out her entire life.

Maybe she had.

When she'd finished her first letter, an hour and a half later, she held the notebook back to examine her writing. Everything she'd written was the truth, the honest truth, and nothing but the truth, and could potentially be too truthful. Truthfully. A fragment of her emotions and thoughts could be glimpsed by skimming through the neatly formed sentences, and perhaps more could be deciphered from the words on the paper.

At any rate, she knew that she would rather die than let Harry actually read any of the letters she'd write…

* * *

_Dear Harry,_

_Even now, just writing your name down on paper makes me feel dizzy. I've decided that since I can never tell you in person how I feel, I'm going to write to you, safe in the knowledge that your eyes will never see anything written on these pages. To start off, I have one particular comment that I need to tell you: you drive me out of my wits. One day you'd be talking to me as though I was one of the most important people in your life, the next, you barely seem to see me when I walk by you in the hallway, although my attempts to get your attention are rather feeble… _

_There are so many things that I want to tell you, but can't. I wish I could tell you that you aren't crazy, that I honestly believe that you and Professor Dumbledore are telling the truth about You-know-who. That first night at school after the feast was over, I saw you approach the first years. I'm sorry about that Harry, I really am. I know I shouldn't be the one apologizing, but I am. When you're that age, what's printed in black ink in the newspapers is true because you simply don't suspect that the editors would allow lying. At least, that's how I was. You might have been a little bit more cautious of your surroundings, and you had a right to be, even if you don't remember your parents and the night you lost them. I've heard about how those muggles you live with treat you and it appalls me. I don't know how they could hate their own flesh and blood so much. Still, it's just something I've heard, it's not like I really know anything about it… _

_My mother always says that when I'm nervous I ramble on and on. I guess I'm doing that now. I just feel like a load has been taken off my mind as each word is penned, but right now my mind doesn't seem to be working properly; I'm just as nervous as if you were looking over my shoulder right at this moment, reading everything I'm writing down. I'll try again when my thoughts are more organized._

_Sincerely,_

_Cho_

* * *

_Dear Harry,_

_I saw you in the hallway today, looking angry again. I sometimes wonder why you look so glum. Of course, what with seeing Cedric die in front of you and watching He-who-must-not-be-named come back must have had some sort of impact on you. Your whole life changes when you realize that someone close to you is gone. To tell you the truth, before Cedric was killed, I had never really had someone that dear to me die. I can just barely remember a few times when You-know-who had been so powerful, when I was too young to grasp the concepts of death. He killed my relatives one by one, and my parents' friends as well. I can just remember faintly, if I really try hard, going to funerals held in secret, the only remains able to be found from the shambles of completely annihilated homes and if not that, some personal items that were able to be salvaged were put in a simple and single coffin for all to see. They never opened any of the coffins while the children (including me) were present. I can imagine the shocked look on your face now._

"_How can she not have felt that much pain and loss until now?" your expression tells me without a single word uttered from your lips. Either that or you would think me simple or silly, like a little girl trapped in a sixteen-year-old body. It's true, I'm trapped, but with all that I have experienced in the past year or so, I would be fortunate indeed to feel the same innocent obliviousness to the harsh reality of life. However, I shouldn't write as though I've the burden of the world upon me with all the hardships in life; you learned far too early that life is not fair and this world is not always merciful, not always bending to your every whim and fulfilling your every need. I can sympathize with you and try to comfort you, but I cannot honestly say that I have experienced true hardships and trials as you have. Still, my heart seems to feel otherwise, regardless of what my mind thinks. As I've said countless times before, you torture me. You really do. I lie awake in bed at night wondering if I should have said something differently or if I could have done something other than what I had actually done, my cheeks burning as though someone had ignited something underneath my skin and I was slowly smoldering into nothing when I remembered my embarrassment. Ah! If only I could do just that…then I would no longer be left alone with nothing but my bewildering thoughts, feeling myself slowly fall into lunacy. There are times now when I question my sanity, wondering whether I'm simply being blinded by never-to-be fantasies to think clearly. This is where I truly am thankful that I have this notebook to write in; I can organize myself in thought while simply relieving myself of the words that I dare not speak aloud, but prefer to pen instead. The other girls sleep like the dead, unconscious of how I'm suffering. Well, until the next time I can write; my hand begs me to let it rest._

_Sincerely,_

_Cho_

* * *

_Dear Harry,_

_I wonder where I stand right now. Do I love you? Although I'm sixteen, I highly doubt that I have any idea what love is, which is why I've signed all my letters thus far with "Sincerely" instead of "Love;" because I don't know if it would be proper if I did use that word. I suppose I'm confessing another fault (or is it a virtue…?): paying attention to the small details even when it doesn't quite seem to matter. I also wonder about how you feel. I'm sure I ruined everything between the two of us when I ran out of that café in Hogsmeade, but I couldn't help it. Everything that I had been feeling, that I had been trying to keep contained, just broke the dam and spilled out._

_I'm sorry for that, and for obviously confusing you by doing things that I thought would impress or intrigue you, but only pushed you farther away from me. I'M SORRY. I would write it over a billion times, if I could only know if you would feel better as a result. I know that there's nothing going on between you and Hermione; she seems to be falling as hard for Ron as I am for you and Ron clearly feels the same way. I doubt you'd noticed…_

_I can now no longer stand romance novels. If they end well with happy endings for everyone, I'm torn between happiness and envy: happiness because they're happy and they have what they want and envy because I'm _not_ happy and I don't have what _I_ want. Sometimes I feel like no one really likes me for who I am, like just because I'm pretty to look at, my personality matters less. It's almost like getting a beautifully wrapped package with elaborate, expensive wrapping paper and then caring more for admiring the gift without ever opening it to find out what's inside. I'm sure you would think that, if I were that package and you were the recipient of me, you would think that the box was empty. I hope you don't really feel that way, because I would just feel like I could die right on the spot if you did. You seem so distant around me, like you had purposely built a wall to keep me out. Then again, you always seem so distant around everyone, including your closest friends. Did you know that I saw Hermione crying in the girls' bathroom the other day? Someone told me that you had yelled at her again. You probably don't even know about how upset she gets whenever you raise your voice. I see her, trying to be strong, dealing with Ron refusing to reveal any of his feelings about her and you being constantly angry… it almost reminds me of myself… tonight my quill weighs heavily in my hand and the fact that I can't write steadily is another distraction. I keep thinking about the Quidditch game tomorrow, Ravenclaw vs. Gryffindor. I know you'll be in the crowd, watching instead of playing because of that Umbridge woman. I want to write more, but I need my rest and Marietta is starting to become a light sleeper, waking at the smallest sound._

_Sincerely,_

_Cho_

* * *

A/N: So, what do you think? It's a little bit hasty and rushed because I was trying to update quickly, but I think I did all right. Thanks to everyone who reviewed, you really made my day! Also, please note that the letters above are random snatches of what Cho wrote in the notebook, hence the time jumps from her first letter to the one referring to Umbridge.

Unicorn13


	3. Final Words

** Warning**: Contains spoilers for the 5th book! Stay away if you haven't read it yet!

**Chapter 3**

Cho looked around, taking everything in. One year had passed since that fateful night when she first started writing in her notebook and she could hardly believe that in a few hours she would leave Hogwarts forever to enter into the real world and take her place among the rest of the wizards and witches who had already graduated. She had broken up with Michael Corner shortly after the school year had begun and stayed single for the rest of the year, although she certainly had numerous offers from more than one worthy candidate and more than she could count from unworthy bachelors.

The teachers had all stressed the importance of having an education when applying for employment anywhere; from the Ministry of Magic to a store in Diagon Alley, an education or degree of some sort would be crucial. She had struggled with the rest of her classmates to maintain good marks in their classes, nervously waited to take the dreaded N.E.W.T.S., and then hoped afterwards that she had passed. The worst and the best of the year had passed, and the entire time, she continued to write.

There was now no doubt in her mind that she loved him. Every day as she thought about what could be or could have been, she kept sinking deeper and deeper into the trap that would almost be impossible to escape from, the trap of loving someone who seemingly didn't return her affections. It was much different from what her friends described love as, which without a single doubt made it real, since their concepts of the topic were that you were in love once you had started doodling your name replacing your surname with his and adding Mrs. at the beginning instead of Ms. on scrap pieces of parchment.

Harry had faced something even more deadly and life affecting than he had even been challenged with before only last year, but this time he said not a word to reveal this fact; instead, it was felt in the way he was present in a room, the words he said or didn't say. He looked and acted older, so much older than she felt, even though she was a year his senior, and it seemed as though he had entered into a world in which she could no longer follow. Maybe it was just a temporary reaction to whatever he had experienced the year before, and maybe it was permanent, but it made her heart ache more for him all the same. Instead of breaking out angrily, he had become eerily calm and more reserved, speaking no more than a few sentences at a time, if he spoke at all. If she walked past him in the hallway, he almost seemed to shoot daggers at her from his eyes, although she could have simply imagined it. No matter how he reacted towards her, he was generally distant towards everyone, even Ron and Hermione.

She held the notebook close to her as she walked down the long hallway, pausing every now and then when a particularly poignant memory came rushing back to her, covered up by the sands of time. She stopped in front of the library, thinking of all the times that she had gone there to write her letters when some of her dorm mates had begun to suspect her nightly activities when Marietta, light sleeper as she had become, woke up one night when Cho had lighted a single candle, but a bright one that filled the room with light. When she had inquired as to what her friend was doing up so late, she had quickly lied about finishing off an essay and decided that from then on that she would write elsewhere, having many privileges granted to her now that she was Head Girl. This was one of her main motives for exploring the castle that day, for she wanted to write one last time while she was still inside this school that was so dear to her. More than once the notebook had near escapes from being drowned in a downpour of bitter tears shed during the most trying times when she had seemed close to giving up hope of everything, including life itself, but something held her back. She could never quite put her finger on what it was that kept her living and holding on through the dark days, but it was there, and it anchored her down, keeping her safe.

Opening the large doors, she was greeted only by the almost stifling atmosphere of absolute silence and thin clouds of dust, swirling on the small breezes created by her sudden entrance before drifting down to settle on some of the books that were read the least. She walked to her favorite table in this perfect location to take refuge, as was known very well by a certain Hermione Granger, and sat down, wiping the top clean until the beautiful polished mahogany gleamed up at her as warm rays of sunlight fell across it, shining in through the windows.

She set the notebook down on it before flipping open the cover as she had done so many times in the past two years, writing in intervals of days and sometimes weeks, but still recording everything that she felt was worth writing down. Page after page was filled completely, front-to-back with writing, and she stopped turning the sheets so quickly whenever something caught her eye and she felt a desire to read it. When she had finally turned to the last page, still blank, she got her quill and a bottle of ink out of her bag to write one final letter.

* * *

_Dear Harry,_

_ I've written those two words over and over again, and yet they still hold the same sentimental meaning for me. Most people write it out of habit, but for me, it actually symbolizes something to me. I've spent a good part of my sixth and seventh years writing letters to you in this notebook, risking being discovered by the other girls in my dorm. You've almost been like my imaginary friend in a way, or a picture that can't talk… I'm making absolutely no sense again…_

_ He-who-must-not-be-named has returned. There is no doubt of that. And somehow, I know that you'll have to face him sooner or later. Maybe we all knew that from the day that we first learned the name Harry Potter when you had defeated him the first time; we all knew deep down inside that this victory would be short-lived, although we would rather deny it. I have faith in you. You will succeed, whether or not you live to tell the tale. I see it in your eyes. As the famous quote goes, "Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them." I think that you and you alone can decide which one describes yourself. Although I would rather you live through your last encounter with You-know-who, I know that it is possible that you will not, and yet I believe that I could live on knowing that someone like you genuinely liked me once. You will not fail us. You will not fail me. If you die, you will die with honor and dignity, standing tall and proud, just as your parents would have wanted you to. You will die like a man. And if you survive, you'll be able to say that you faced the Dark Lord and fought well. Or, being as modest as you are, you'll let someone else tell your tale of courageousness and try to refrain from taking all the praise and recognition, saying simply that you had help along the way and that it was just luck. I just wish that I could say this to you, face-to-face…_

_ I wish you luck in whatever career that you choose to pursue, and may life be more kind to you than it has been for the past sixteen years. Perhaps fate will take pity on me and our paths will cross later on in life, under different circumstances where I'll be able to walk straight up to you, defiant of what anyone thinks, strong-minded and confident, and talk to you as I've often longed to. It's too bad that the most pleasant dreams don't always come true, similar to the curse of not being able to say anything in a verbal argument and then coming up with a perfect response to a particularly scathing insult three hours later. I won't say good-bye; I actually refuse to. Even though you'll never know anything about the contents of this notebook, I refuse to write good-bye in my last letter. Instead, I shall write until we meet again, to be on the positive side, like looking at the glass as half full instead of half empty. And now, I can finally write with certainty:_

_Love,_

_Cho_

_

* * *

_

She ended her letters there, deciding to leave the back of the page blank, although she wasn't quite sure why she had decided this; however, she had been so sure about so many things lately that she paid no attention to it. As she closed the notebook, she felt an unexplainable sense of sadness, as though an important chapter of her life had been closed.

And it was.

Not lost forever exactly, but ended so that a new part in her life that would be much sweeter could be written.

She stood up, tears starting to gather in her eyes as they had done so many times before, but now, she didn't try to contain them. She let a tear slowly course down her cheek, leaving a thin trail behind. And yet, it made her feel better. Crying uncontrollably and hysterically wasn't quite the best for easing pain; subtle, slow tears were much more effective. However, knowing that those treacherous drops of water gained speed sooner than she would have liked them to, she let only two more tears fall before wiping them away and standing up.

Sniffling a little, she casually checked her watch and saw that it was 9:00. 9:00… the graduation ceremony was in an hour and she hadn't even started preparing, packing, everything that she needed to do before leaving! Hurrying, she grabbed her belongings and loosely stuck the notebook in her book bag. Blowing a wisp of hair out of her face, she shouldered her bag and rushed out of the library, mentally scolding herself for her thoughtlessness. As she walked at a dangerously fast pace, she literally ran straight into Harry and in her hurry to get away never noticed that she had dropped something that she could not afford to leave lying around and found.

* * *

Harry Potter walked at a brisk pace, although by no means happily. His face was drawn in a serious expression that was almost painful to behold and laughter coming from him was so rare that his friends treasured every sign of optimism that he showed, brief though they were.

Hermione and Ron had first suggested relaxing beside the lake that morning.

"Why don't we all go out and get some fresh air?" Hermione said, smiling at him and jerking her head towards him as a hint to Ron.

Catching on, he said, "Y-yeah, that would be nice…"

"Have you packed?" he said, sounding a bit uninterested.

"Yes, I packed last night," Hermione said.

"Me too," Ron added.

"I haven't finished packing," he said, turning back to stare into the fire.

"Well, would you like some help?" she said kindly.

"No, you go ahead. I'll catch up." Harry said, sighing and starting for the dormitory.

"Oh." said Hermione, looking slightly crestfallen. "Well, don't take too long… it's beautiful outside today…"

And with that, she motioned for Ron to follow her and leave their friend in peace. He nodded and walked out of the portrait hole with her, both looking sad instead of worried, the kind of sadness that could be seen visibly and felt strongly.

Upstairs, true to his words, Harry had started packing, and he took as much time as he could. He knew that his friends had meant well, but right now, he needed time to brood by himself without the distractions of people constantly buzzing around him and trying to hold his hand as if he were a little boy. Well, they couldn't help unless they could somehow undo the prophecy that had been thus far fulfilled and save him from his fate of having to either be murdered or commit murder. He had told no one about the full contents of the prophecy, being warned by Professor Dumbledore that the risks were too great for him to tell anyone, which was perfectly fine with him. People talked too much for their own good already, and he wasn't about to add kindling to the flame.

He spent a good half hour (most of which was dedicated to finding his books; all of them had seemed to spread themselves around the room, hidden in corners and concealed behind desks) putting everything in his trunk before finally starting to head out to meet Hermione and Ron after checking to see that he had his wand.

And so, here he was now, walking and thinking ominous thoughts at the same time. However, they were interrupted when someone came rushing out of the library as he passed it, bumping into him. Cho Chang looked up at him, still being shorter than he, and gave a look of pure astonishment before flushing deep scarlet and brushing past him, murmuring an apology and dropping something in her haste.

Arching an eyebrow, he looked inquisitively at what she had dropped; it seemed to be a notebook of some sort. He turned to tell her that she had left something behind, but it was of no use; she had already disappeared. Resolving to give it to her later when he had a chance, although he had no idea as to when that may be, he shrank it to fit in his pocket before returning to his previous course. As he stepped outside, the sunshine and cheerful atmosphere got the better of him, and he managed to lighten his mood slightly and all thoughts about the notebook escaped his mind completely as he joined Hermione and Ron, who didn't mind about getting wet due to the extreme heat, in a splashing war down by the lake.

* * *

A/N: Okay, Cho is a Prefect as far as we know, right? Well, if she isn't, just pretend that she is… Sorry it took me a little bit longer to update, but as you see, I made this chapter longer than the last two… Wow! More positive reviews!

Hmm… I wonder… has anybody else besides glitterfairyxoxo and LogicalRaven read Red Roses? If you haven't, that story is another reason why I might be a little slow on updating, just f.y.i., so you might want to check it out and see what all the fuss is about! (hinthintwinkwink) No pressure… Thanks to everyone who reviewed, I now have a permanent smile on my face!

Unicorn13


	4. Moving Day

** Chapter 4**

_3 years later_

"What have you been keeping stored away in this trunk of yours for all this time?" Ron said curiously, moving Harry's old school trunk into the room with a flick of his wand.

"Oh, just old rubbish from school days, that sort of thing," his friend casually replied as he walked in behind him. He glanced around, taking in the refreshing spectacle of his new flat.

So much had happened so quickly in his seventh year at Hogwarts that it had felt like the last three years were more like three months.

True to the prophecy, Harry had come face-to-face with the Dark Lord for one final time.

_Flashback_

_"Harry Potter. My, how I've become fond of our yearly meetings," Voldemort said cynically, his mouth twisting into a cruel smile. "Of course, I can't say that you feel the same…"_

_ Harry clutched at his left side and felt that at least half of his ribs were broken as he breathed and bled heavily. He said nothing._

_ "Now that I have you all alone, with no one else to stand in the way," he continued, gesturing his arms to the empty room as if he were speaking to someone unintelligent, "you and I can finally test each other to our full strengths."_

_ He smiled again before cackling his blood-curdling laugh._

_ Harry felt his insides clench. Was it from apprehension? Was it fear? Or was it simply the fact that he felt like he had been turned upside down and inside out, all in a matter of hours? Dumbledore had gone into hiding earlier on in the year, and he hadn't seen Harry since. Word of his capture must have reached him by this time, but it would be too late by the time he was able to send in reinforcements of any kind; Lord Voldemort did not wait for his victims to be saved. He was now on the floor of a dungeon somewhere far away from Hogwarts and Voldemort had somehow found one of the most peculiar dungeons of them all; there were no entrances or exits. The only one who could transport people to and from there was the Dark Lord himself, as he explained when Harry feebly began to search for a means of escape once he had been transported there._

_ "It's no use Potter," he said, smirking. "You cannot run, you cannot hide. You can only face me and die."_

_ "No," he thought weakly. "I will NOT."_

_ He smiled faintly as the look of utter satisfaction on Voldemort's face faded slightly. He had mastered Occlumency now, and his thoughts were perfectly safe from even the most powerful dark wizard of his time._

_ "Nothing to say to that? Well, well, this _is_ a surprise…"_

_ The smirk had returned to his face._

_ "No matter, you have no need of words in any form. Now, how shall I do it?" he said, beginning to pace in front of Harry. "Should I finish you off quickly? No, that would be far too merciful… it would, say, ruin my reputation… The Cruciatus curse only goes so far, and is only good for a means of torture… torture. That's it. I'll torture the famous Harry Potter to death. That way," he said, bending down so that they were facing each other, "I can finish you off, bit by bit, and be able to savor every moment of it."_

_ Harry suppressed a shudder as he glared into the blood-red eyes of his enemy. Of his parents' enemy. Of the enemy of all that was or stood for good. He reached into his pocket and drew his wand before slowly standing and straightening up. Shakily, he raised his wand defiantly, never breaking eye contact. This seemed to amuse his rival._

_ "You haven't won yet," Harry said, feeling his blood begin to boil in pure hatred and anger._

_ Voldemort only laughed again._

_ "I always knew you had strong willpower… so like your father. Which was why I tried to persuade him to reverse loyalties and work for the one cause worth fighting for: the battle for power. Unfortunately, like you, he was stubborn and refused me. Well, he met his end soon enough. No one refuses Lord Voldemort and escapes punishment." _

_ Acting on impulse, Harry raised his wand and yelled, "Crucio!" but his opponent was quicker. He deflected the charm as though it were nothing more than a mere fly, still smiling._

_ "So, impatient are we? Not much like the virtuous boy-who-lived that the entire wizarding world claims you are." And with that, he shot a jet of red sparks at him, causing Harry to double over in pain once more. "Little do you know that in my experiments, I have discovered a curse that equals the Cruciatus curse in power, yet is more destructive physically. Finally, I will have my revenge."_

_ Harry summoned all his strength and raised his head to look once more at his foe, who in turn raised his wand again and prepared to send another explosion of sparks towards him. Reacting quickly, he rolled over to his left and dodged the curse by inches, painfully reminded of the time he had done the same thing in the graveyard in his fourth year. However, there was one difference: there were no tombstones to hide behind, and no Death Eaters to block any possible means of escape… not that it mattered whether or not they were there for that purpose…_

_ When he stood to face Voldemort again, there was now a faint trace of admiration on the face of the Dark Lord. Surprised, he questioned him with a look, to which the only reply was silence._

_ Harry took this spare moment to shoot a Blinding curse at him, and succeeding; the ghastly being that was Lord Voldemort clutched at his eyes, cursing. Harry smirked. The Blinding curse had just been discovered by Professor Dumbledore himself and had been taught to only him. As of yet, there was no countercurse. He stayed alert nonetheless, aware of the possibility that the spell could be undone by a wizard as powerful as Voldemort._

_ He held his breath as the wizard in front of him slowly stood up before beginning to grope around blindly. _

_ Voldemort muttered an incantation before opening his eyes and cursing. Obviously, his powers weren't strong enough to overcome this nearly permanent spell as he stumbled around half-blind._

_ "One point for Potter," he said sarcastically. "But we'll see who has the last laugh. We'll see."_

_ Harry tightened his grip around his wand and carefully took aim. He closed his eyes, bracing himself and gathering together his wits._

_ "Avada Kedavra!" he yelled, hitting Voldemort squarely in the back. As a precaution, he shot several other curses he had learned over the last two years, anger and hate sweeping through his body, and with difficulty, finally vanquished the Dark Lord. His battle had been won and the war was over. And then-_

_ Silence._

_ But not for long._

_ "Harry!" a voice somewhere called. "Are you in there?"_

_ "Yes!" he managed to yell._

_ And before he could say anything else, he fell to the ground from exhaustion and found that tears mingled with the sweat on his face. His parents would have been proud, he thought to himself._

_ "But they are, Harry. They are."_

_ Looking up, he saw the face of Dumbledore, and with his help, walked out of massive hole that had been made in the wall into the sunlight, feeling as though he had been reborn. And he felt it. The headmaster had been right. His parents were proud. And the tears continued to come as the boy-who-lived cried without shame as he was led back to Hogwarts to receive the glory he deserved._

"Are you sure you don't need any more help? I can tell Hermione that we need to move our date to some other time." Ron said, looking a little apprehensive.

"Go," Harry said for the last time, waving his hand as if to motion him away. "I know how important it is to you to spend time with her."

"All right, I'll see you later then," Ron said, turning to leave.

When the door finally closed behind him, Harry breathed a small sigh of relief, glad to be able to have some time for himself. It wasn't that he didn't like his friend; he just needed a half-hour or so with only his thoughts for company. He had been crowded around ever since he had been introduced back into the wizarding world at age eleven and to be honest, all the attention was stifling and becoming uncomfortable now that he had ridded the world of Lord Voldemort.

He crossed the room to place several picture frames on the mantel, brushing away dust here and there, smiling as the people in each picture waved happily at him, including his parents. He had chosen a spacious flat in Diagon Alley on the ninth floor of the building. When he had first viewed the apartment, he had decided on the spot that this would be the only one that he would ever be satisfied with, and the owner was more than happy to sell it to him for a low price.

"No problem, no problem at all," the gentleman said heartily, refusing the money when Harry had tried to pay more for it, "Anything for the famous Harry Potter,"

Of course, he would only live in it for a year or so before going abroad to begin training in an overseas Auror program that he had been given the opportunity to participate in. Nevertheless, he had decided to keep it for when he returned.

The first of the last three years had been spent living with the Weasley family until, with much protesting, he and Ron had moved out into their own apartment, insisting that, due to the fact that they were full-fledged wizards now, they needed to live in a place of their own. In the next two years they had shared a two-bedroom flat with no conflicts, yet Harry didn't feel quite comfortable sharing space with someone else, albeit it was his best friend he was living with. He had grown fond of being in his own company over the years and had decided, after a heated argument with his friend and awkward apologies, that he needed a place of his own.

He levitated his couch over to the living room, making the coffee table follow behind it. After he had accomplished arranging his living room satisfactorily, he went back to his trunk, deciding that he would go and rummage through the things to see what he would like to take out. Picking up the pair of Uncle Vernon's old socks and a pair of slacks from his uniform, a small notebook caught his eye and he remembered. He remembered that day when he had been in no hurry to meet his friends down by the lake and he had bumped into Cho Chang. She had dropped the notebook and he hadn't been able to give it back.

"_Engorgio_," he muttered, pointing his wand at the miniature notebook. When it had grown to its normal size, he made a move to open the cover, and then stopped. He didn't quite feel comfortable fiddling around with someone else's belonging, and besides that, he felt a sense of forbidding, an aura that seemed to give off the impression that something private was hidden inside.

Fighting the temptation to open it, he opened the bottom drawer in his desk and placed it carefully inside before turning back to unpack the rest of his own things. Still, he couldn't stop thinking about it somehow. Was it because it was Cho Chang's? Why did something tell him that there were words written in that notebook that involved him? He told himself that he was being ridiculous, that the notebook had probably been used for homework, yet the mere image of the thing haunted his thoughts. Finally, he decided that a walk would be nice, and he grabbed his jacket out of the closet, locked the door, and headed out. He never noticed a pair of dark eyes watching him intently from a window on the eight floor of the building as he walked down the street, hands in his pockets. Only when an unseen person had summoned her did she break her gaze and walk away from the clear glass pane.

* * *

A/N: Whoa, what's this, two updates in the same day (on different stories though)? Happy Thanksgiving everybody! Sorry it took such a long time to update and about the shorter chapter; I'm really not that creative when it comes to action stuff and if anybody has any suggestions on how to revise that certain part, please feel free to give them! I know it was kind of dumb though, because it shouldn't have been that easy to get rid of the most powerful dark wizard of all time, but hey, I had a touch of writer's block… thanks for all of your support everybody, you've been great! I appreciate every single review you guys send in and I hope you liked this chapter! And again, Happy Thanksgiving! 


	5. Reminiscences and Curiosities

** Chapter 5**

She hadn't quite expected her mother to encourage her so fervently to buy the apartment. As far as her mother went, she had never pressured her to do whatever she didn't want to do. When she had rebelled outright against going to a summer camp when she was six years old, she stayed home. If her mother took her shopping and a certain toy wasn't the right color or kind, it was never bought. Which was why Cho was astonished when her usually easy-going parent had expressed how she should take the flat that they had visited only once and that she was apprehensive about.

"I don't know Mum," she said, as they looked around once more. "It's nice, but I'm not sure I need such a roomy apartment. Three bedrooms is a bit much,"

"Nonsense," she said briskly. "Now you can have more guests to come visit you and spend the night,"

"Hmm…" she replied hesitantly. "This kitchen seems a bit large as well…" She faltered as she took note of her mother's increasingly impatient expression. However, she was determined to confess each small doubt she had about the place, and so, she continued.

"What about those cracks in the ceiling? And I've also heard that the person who lives above this flat loves to throw large parties… I'm not sure if I'd be able to enjoy it very much with all the racket upstairs,"

"Don't be so silly, Cho. You've had seven excellent years of education at Hogwarts. I think you'll be able to manage fixing the ceiling with a flick of your wand. As for your upstairs neighbor, he's planning on moving out. I overheard something about him looking for a larger apartment to accommodate more people for his social gatherings,"

"The color the living room is painted is a shade too dark, don't you think so?"

"Yes, but you can always repaint it," was the curt reply. "Oh, it's just a wonderful flat, and my opinion is that you should take it." She said again, with less impatience and something more like clever persuasiveness. "It reminds me of the first apartment your father and I bought together and this just brings back so many memories; it has this sense of familiarity… well, of course, the building that we originally lived in was torn down long ago, please excuse your sentimental old mother for rambling on and on…"

She stole a sly glance at her daughter as she trailed off, walking towards the door before sighing and saying, "Well, if you don't like it, I suppose that we could go find another flat that you like more,"

Cho bit her lip and thought carefully for a moment. This place wasn't exactly her idea of a dream home, but it did seem to mean a great deal to her mother and she certainly didn't want to disappoint her… and yet there were so many other choices available to her. Remembering the way her mother's face had lit up when her eyes had caught a glimpse of the apartment, she found that she couldn't let her down and decided that she'd buy it, just for her mother's sake. It wasn't such a bad place anyway; her mother was right in saying that she could make all her little adjustments after she had moved in and gotten everything settled. There was no flaw that a few well-done charms couldn't fix that the flat possessed.

"Wait," she said suddenly. "I think I like this apartment after all,"

"Good," Mrs. Chang said, nodding approvingly. Taking her daughter by the arm, she led her out into the hallway and towards the elevator. "I promise you won't regret it."

That had been several months ago, and she had found that her mother was right; she had become very fond indeed of the place, just its welcoming aura and sense of being home. And yet there was something else. She found that she couldn't quite put her finger on it and finally gave up trying to discover what obviously did not intend to be discovered anytime soon, if ever. It seemed to be almost as puzzling as when she had first begun to question her feelings for Harry… Harry. It had been a long time since she had thought of him. She often found that once thoughts of him entered her head, it was nearly impossible to rid herself of them, plaguing her just as they did years ago. Painful memories flooded her senses once more to cause her dreams to become replays of what had been and what could never be in random fits. To remedy the old ailment, she buried herself in work at the Ministry and busied every spare moment she had visiting with old friends or shopping, although she didn't always find something to buy. And yet, when she was alone in her own room with nothing to distract her any longer, he still haunted her, his face more vivid in her mind than it had been for so long. She often longed for a means of escape, but she had lost the notebook ages ago… she had been positive that it was in her bag when she had left Hogwarts, so that possibility was ruled out. She finally came to accept the fact that it was gone and that she would never see it again… even without it, she found consolation in one thing that was different this time; she hadn't seen Harry for so long, except for in the news occasionally, and, although she would have welcomed this sudden onslaught of old feelings with more dread a year or so earlier, she found that she was strangely… happy as well as sad and tormented whenever she saw him as she had seen him years before in her memory or dreams. She loved recalling every which way his hair stuck up, his facial expressions, the way he said her name, almost uncertainly, confirming that he was almost as frightened as she was about the idea of the two of them together and how- right it seemed. She loved the way he would be just as competitive as anyone else on the Quidditch field when playing against her team, and most of all, she loved the idea that maybe, just maybe, he had loved her once too. As time slipped through her fingers as easily as water, she found that the pain from the memories would slowly fade away as she began to think of all the things that she loved about him and that it returned when she thought of how he surely would have forgotten her by now.

The year after she had graduated from Hogwarts, she had paid close attention to the newspapers, her eyes constantly searching for a bit of news, anything about the Dark Lord's return or defeat. As the death toll rose steadily, she began to despair of good prevailing over evil after she had visited yet another funeral, Marietta's parents'. When offered a position in the Order of the Phoenix by Dumbledore, she had accepted- on one condition: that Harry would know nothing of her belonging to the organization. Having this agreed upon, she set out on a dangerous mission to discover Voldemort's whereabouts, which had been rumored to be somewhere around Switzerland. No sooner than she had been in Bern for five weeks, she overheard a crucial bit of information in a marketplace while disguised as an old peddler. Harry was not safe. Quickly deciphering the code with which the Death Eater spoke to another wizard, she discovered that the Dark Lord was not in Switzerland, but in Finland, and was planning an attack on Hogwarts during which Harry would be taken. Sending an owl to England immediately, she warned the other members of the Order of the dark plot that would soon be fulfilled if they did nothing to prevent it. However, before her letter arrived, the siege had already taken place. She returned, fully aware that Harry had won once more, his latest victory more meaningful now that he had done it all on his own with only his own skill and wit, and already having been tortured and injured. Feeling a bit disappointed at not being able to contribute more to the noble cause, she received the Headmaster's thanks all the same and proceeded to attempt avoiding Harry at all means possible. Finally, she settled for going abroad with her parents to the United States to visit some relatives and do a bit of sightseeing along the way for a while. Upon their return, she knew that she wanted to live in a place of her own, and so the search began… and ended after her mother had insisted on that one flat. It was peculiar… she had barely stuck her head in an apartment before she almost immediately dragged Cho straight out the door again, insisting that it wasn't good enough, even when they had looked at a flat that once belonged to Celestina Warbeck herself. It was always the same response after a moment's reflection, until they had come upon the one that she had finally deemed as worthy of her occupation.

Her mother often came to visit after she officially owned the apartment, and still thought it as charming as the first day she had seen it, and told her an assortment of stories about the other flat she had lived in.

That apartment had become home to her now, and she'd been reminded once more that Mother knows best. There was a certain aura about the place that gave it a welcoming feeling once she stepped inside the door that wasn't unlike the impression the house she had grown up in gave her each time she came home from school. And yet… there seemed to be something else. Almost as though it had some hidden secret within its walls that was not to be revealed to her just yet; it also had something to do with its atmosphere… almost a sense of anticipation. As to what it was anticipating, she had no earthly idea, and as she continued to think of this, a small voice would break her out of her trance and reprimand her for being foolish. Yet still the thought remained in her mind and refused to leave her be…

But her apartment didn't seem to be the only one with something to hide. More than once she had caught her mother staring intently out the window, seeming to expect something. When inquired upon this strange activity, the reply was always a calm, "Oh nothing, nothing at all. Just seeing what the weather looks like,"

She was not one to doubt her mother's honesty, but she couldn't help but be skeptical…

"Mum, why don't you come away from that window and help me make some biscuits for tea?" she said one day. "Surely you know what the weather is by now,"

"Just a moment dear," her mother replied, her head turning to the right slightly, following a figure on the street below before smiling and walking into the kitchen. She glanced curiously at her mother, examining her face more closely, but as she did, the broad smile disappeared and was replaced instead by a polite smile that was more ordinary. Giving up, Cho only moved to take out the ingredients they needed and to bustle busily around the kitchen. As her daughter did all this, Mrs. Chang's broad smile crept back onto her face again as she thought of the parts of her prophesy that had already been fulfilled.

* * *

It had all gone very well. She had foreseen years before that the one who would change the entire course of her daughter's life would someday cross her path once more, only to stay on it, with a bit of help, of course. Sometimes things just needed a helpful nudge to set everything correctly and make the cards play out in her favor. Thankfully, her daughter was blissfully unaware of the hand that had been dealt her, as well as the fact that her very own mother was a Seer. Maybe someday she would tell her. Every now and then, Cho herself had had small predictions, something that she had never been able to fully explain to her. She could no longer use the excuse that she was too young to know of these things, for she was now a young woman, capable of supporting herself without the aid of her parents. Still, she decided that these secrets could wait just a bit longer. Maybe they would be revealed to her as a wedding gift…

The man who had owned the building had also been the owner of the building that she had spoken fondly of to Cho so many times, so it had been with no real difficulty that one of his very best flats had been put up for sale for an almost outrageously low price as soon as its tenant had accepted a position overseas. It was all part of the prophecy. First, the boy would break her only child's heart once and then the notebook would become her refuge. Then, years later, she would live on the same plot of land that he did, therefore making it possible for their paths to cross, and the rest would be history after he had read the notebook that he had gotten a hold of.

She watched carefully from the window facing the street leading to Diagon Alley, searching for any sign of him. She had held her breath as his eye caught the "for sale" sign on the front of the building and, motioning to his friend, they both entered. A few days later, he returned, this time with an entire mass of redheaded people, probably to inquire their opinions on the place. It could only be the apartment directly above Cho's that he was interested in; it was the only one up for sale. Of course, his friends would all encourage him to buy it. Nearly a week later, when she had almost driven her daughter out of her wits by dropping by to visit every day and yet doing almost nothing except for staring out the window, she was relieved to see him come out of the building and shake hands with the owner of the flat. It was later in the afternoon that the man who owned the actual building took down the sign.

To soothe her daughter's frayed nerves and limited amount of patience, she spaced the intervals of her visits so that they spanned at least several days. When the moving van came, her visits became a bit more frequent again before stopping entirely after she had seen him.

He had been walking quickly down the street, looking as though he were trying to escape some burden he carried in his heart or on his mind, while she had been looking out the window, as usual. The beginnings of a smile started at the corners of her mouth and gradually spread to the rest of her face until it was obvious to anyone who saw her that she was extremely pleased about something.

She restrained herself as Cho called her to the kitchen to help, and the smile returned when she was in the hallway outside of the flat, and remained there for the rest of the day.

* * *

A/N: Eh, I think I did all right, and sorry again about the long wait. If you had read my Author's Note/fake chapter (lol) then you would know why I'm so late in updating… oh, and an update on that author's note; I had to remove it because of a new rule and that may be why some of you are confused about whether or not you reviewed and why there are reviews for chapter five when there isn't actually a chapter five. Anyway, you guys are all still really flattering, and thanks to everyone for having patience with me and reviewing and I promise I'll try to make the next chapter longer! 


	6. Plans

** Chapter 6**

Marietta frowned as she set down her purse on the coffee table and plopped down on the sofa.

"You really do need some fresh air," she persisted.

"I'm fine, Marietta," Cho said, feeling as though she was repeating herself one too many times. She walked back and forth from the kitchen, bringing her empty coffee cup to the sink and tidying up the area where she had been organizing some paperwork.

"Oh, just come with me and do some shopping. It'll be fun," Marietta coaxed.

"I don't need to buy anything at the moment, but I'll tell you when I do."

"You never need to purchase anything, and that's the problem!" her friend exclaimed. "I'm only going to be in this part of London for this afternoon, and then I've got to work full-time for the rest of the month. _Please_? For old times' sake?"

She put on an imploring expression, begging her friend to agree to going with her.

"Well…" Cho said hesitantly. "I suppose… a few hours wouldn't hurt."

Marietta positively beamed at her friend and immediately stood up again, picking her handbag up off the table as quickly as she had put it down and heading to the closet to take down her coat as well as Cho's.

Cho sighed and shook her head, smiling as she watched her friend. She supposed that was what at least half an hour of begging in the hallway outside her flat came to in the end…

"Now, we simply _must_ visit that new robes shop as well as the restaurant they've only just opened last week. A friend of mine from work went there on opening night and said that the food was worth every Knut, Sickle, and Galleon." Marietta said, drawing her friend's arm through her own and walking out the door.

"Wait!" Cho said in protest, beginning to laugh. "Don't close the door just yet. It locks automatically, you know, and the key to it is in my purse which is _still inside_."

"Oh. Right," she said, letting go of the dark-haired girl to catch the door.

Rolling her eyes, she walked in through the doorway again, telling Marietta to wait outside in the hallway for her. Her sharp eyes brushed over the contents of the apartment as she headed for her bedroom; in her well-meaning friend's rush, the fact that she was still in her bedroom slippers and robe had been forgotten in addition to the keys. Her bag rested on the dresser, as always, and she pulled open a drawer to pull out a sweater and a pair of flared-bottom jeans, her preferred choice of muggle clothes when shopping. Making sure her purse was hanging off of her arm, she closed the bedroom door.

Her eyes caught a piece of paper on the floor, a newspaper clipping, as she stepped gracefully towards the main door. Picking it up delicately, she turned it over to see Harry Potter smiling up at her in all his glory; the picture had been taken for the Daily Prophet hours after his last encounter with the Dark Lord, and he looked a bit too tired to smile, and covered in dirt and blood. But the light of triumph illuminated his green eyes in the surprisingly color picture, and he looked as though he was on top of the world, almost as though he had been reborn into a free man, free from the worry of Voldemort and the heavy burden of living out his destiny.

He looked up at her, oblivious of whom she was and content to smile and wave at her as though she was another familiar face he was happy to see. She felt her heart swoon slightly, breaking and yet healing all at the same, a peculiar feeling that seemed to like paying her visits often. It was like satisfying a craving somewhere inside of her, and yet prodding open an old wound as well, refusing to let it be.

"This is ridiculous," she muttered, words she had become very well acquainted with, wiping away the tears that had begun to gather and putting the clipping away in the closest book she could find.

"Cho!" called her friend, evidently becoming more and more impatient.

She set the book carefully on the bookshelf and rushed to the door, where Marietta was now threatening to come inside the apartment and drag her out. Once outside, she closed the door and turned to find her friend tapping her foot, arms crossed.

"Ready?" she said, with a look of mixed disapproval and irritation.

"Lead the way," Cho replied with a smile, motioning for her to go ahead.

"You know, you really should consider dating again," she said, out of nowhere as they waited for the elevator to arrive.

"Marietta-" she started.

"No, Cho, hear me out," she persisted. "You've seen absolutely nobody ever since you broke up with Michael Corner. Michael Corner! That had to be, at least," – she paused to look up at the ceiling in concentration and calculate the time– "three and a half years ago. I know you can't _possibly_ miss _him_ that much."

Cho sighed. "You're right. It's not him that I miss."

"Well, whoever you miss, I'm just saying that you need to learn to let go of the past. Living with only your thoughts for company is dangerous."

"And how, may I ask, is it hazardous?"

"Sooner or later you'll go nutters."

"Oh, that's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard. You probably made that up just now."

"I did _not_," she said indignantly. "John told me."

"Ah, yes. And how fares your latest boyfriend and perhaps fiancée-to-be nowadays?"

"He's fine, thank you. He had a bit of a cold and had to miss a few days of work last week, but he recovered quickly enough."

At that moment, the elevator bell rang and the doors opened. Both women stepped in, halting their conversation only until Marietta had pressed the button for the bottom floor.

"Anyway, that's beside the point," she continued. "I'm not joking about beginning to date again."

"I know you're not. Besides, it's not like I haven't seen anyone at all in the past three or so years." Cho said coolly.

"_Really_? Name five men,"

"I can't really remember their names, but I do recall you setting blind dates for me left and right the first year we were out of Hogwarts, and they were all disasters."

"Not _all_ of them. What about that nice man? His name was, um, oh, what was it?"

"Are you speaking of that crazed perfectionist who fussed about everything, or that 'doctor' you found smoking heaven knows what behind St. Mungo's? You thought they were both 'perfect dears.' "

"Neither one of them, and it wasn't my fault that they didn't turn out as well as I thought they would. It was- oh! It was that man who sold watches or something…"

"Gilbert Thatch."

"How is it that you remember his name and not anyone else's?"

"Marietta, the man forgot my name within the first five minutes after we had been acquainted! And not only that, he kept staring at other men as they walked by our table in the restaurant-"

"All right, all right, no need to go into detail," she said hastily as the doors opened again. "Just let me arrange one more blind date for you."

"No. I know well enough from experience that you have absolutely no talent or sense in organizing other people's affairs." Cho said firmly.

"Fine. How about if you came with me to this New Year's Eve party John's throwing tomorrow? It said on the invitation that a few friends could be brought along, and so I'm asking _you_ to come with me. Surely you wouldn't object to being introduced to someone there if I happened to see someone you'd go well with."

"Hmm. I'm not sure I trust you."

"And why is that!"

"Well, you have a way of inflating things into something that are ten times bigger than you tell people they'll be. Remember your great-grandmother's birthday party?"

"Yes," she said gloomily, pushing open one of the doors of the main entrance and holding it open for her friend.

"The poor old dear nearly had a heart attack when you lit the fireworks and turned up the volume on the radio. You told her that it would be a nice, quiet party with a few friends and it turned out to be a large party with people she didn't even know and extravagant bangs and whatnot…"

"Just trust me this once. Please?"

"You're doing it again," she groaned, seeing the pleading look in her friend's eyes that was almost impossible to resist. Finally she sighed and said, "I hate it when you do that. Fine. Just this once. But I'm warning you, Marietta, if you make a mess of things once more, don't expect me to trust you any more, puppy eyes or not, deal?"

"Deal," Marietta replied reluctantly, beginning to walk towards the well-known shops of Diagon Alley.

"Marietta," said Cho, stopping in her tracks after a few moments of silence.

"What?" she said, stopping as well.

"I was wondering if you remembered the time that we went to what muggles call a 'shopping mall' with Kirana, that foreign exchange student from America,"

She snorted derisively. "How could I forget? I've learned never to try using our own currency with those muggle salespeople, the idiots."

"Maybe after going to the bank," she started slowly, "we could-"

"No, I know what you're thinking, and I want you to clear your head of those thoughts. I swore to myself that I'd never set foot inside a shopping mall again, I intend on keeping that promise to myself."

"If I'm going to your party, you may as well come with me to pick out an outfit for it. Besides, John is a muggleborn, so, chances are, he's going to invite other muggleborns as well as half-bloods, etc. They'll most likely be more comfortable wearing muggle clothes, and it would be less conspicuous if everyone wore them."

"All right, whatever you say, let's just hurry and get everything done with our shopping and we'll discuss your love life further."

"When? I thought that this was the only afternoon you had free for the rest of this month."

"Oh, I sort of- bent the truth a little. See, you really did need to get out of that stuffy flat-"

"- In other words, you have absolutely nothing to do after your regular work hours on the weekdays, am I correct?"

"Sometimes it's almost scary how well you know me…"

"Good. Then it's settled." Said Cho, beginning to walk again, feeling that her friend had already done her a world of good.

* * *

"You need to send those files to Fisher by ten o'clock today so that he can record them into the Ministry records, all that technical rubbish, unless you want to deal with about three more weeks of sorting through all those Vampire reports again. With that said, you have exactly fifteen minutes to get those files down there." Harry said, getting a thick pile of folders and papers together.

"I'll walk you down there, since I have to give this stack of paperwork to him anyway," he added, handing Ron a thick pile of folders and papers. He groaned and kicked open the door on his way out, his hands being full, Harry following behind him.

"I think that bloke must have gone absolutely mad," he said as he walked alongside his friend. "The perfect retirement age for him came and went thirty years ago, and he's still here filing paperwork and recording things. The most amazing part is how he can get all his work done so quickly…"

"He's not that bad, actually," Harry said, shrugging as best he could with the heavy load in his hands.

"I thought so too when I first met him, but then he started yelling at me for making the door hinges squeak as I opened the door to walk out and I changed my mind. Did you know that he threatened to tell my mother about my 'bad behavior?' Chances are, she'd turn it into the family joke."

"Ickle Ronniekins misbehaved at work and had to sit in a corner for fifteen minutes. Ah, yes, I can see it all now," he said sarcastically, smirking.

"And even if he wasn't nutters, I'm sure he'd still be a grouch," said Ron, ignoring his friend's reply.

"You're right," he replied. "But I'm sure he has good reason to be so bitter all the time. You said so yourself that he's been here for longer than any human being should, working in a position that no one in his or her right mind would want to fill."

"True, but that's no excuse for shouting at me. Anyway, how long do we have to do this?"

"What, you mean sort out files and read through reports and things of that kind? Until we're ready to go into that Auror training program."

"How do they expect us to 'prepare' for an entire year? Sounds a bit dodgy to me... they probably just told us that to keep us out of the course until they can find instructors who'll baby us and teach us nothing."

"You know you don't really mean that."

"Of course I don't! Merlin, Harry, I'm just talking on and on to make sure it's not too quiet," he said cynically, with a hint of hysteria.

"_Now_ who's the crazy one?" Harry muttered, shaking his head.

"What was that?" Ron said crisply.

"I said, 'We're here,'"

"Liar,"

"Well, we _are_ here." He said, obviously amused. In front of them was a door with fading silver letters reading, "Official Ministry Records Office" on the cracked and filthy glass.

With a glance at Ron, he sighed and said reluctantly, "I'll open the door."

Placing a hand on the grimy brass doorknob, he slowly turned it until they heard a faint click, informing them that the door was now open. Sliding it open fully, but carefully, the door swung open to reveal a short white-haired wizard bent over his desk in concentration, looking from the paper beside his hand to the record on which he was writing. A small window behind the desk lit the room, and as they approached his desk, they heard him muttering incoherently as always, his charmed quill steadily writing for him as he, supposedly, dictated. Harry cleared his throat loudly and he looked up with a start, squinting to identify the two people in front of him despite the fact that he had his glasses on.

"Yes?" he said gruffly, looking less than pleased after he had shown a sign of recognition.

"We brought you those files, Fisher. The Vampire reports?" Ron said, a pitch louder than he usually spoke.

"Yes, yes, just set them down there," he said carelessly, waving his hand dismissively and returning to the piece of parchment.

"And here's the paperwork you wanted on last week's investigations for the disappearance of the Hunter family's heirlooms," Harry added in, placing his pile next to Ron's.

"Eh…" he said, waving his hand again. "Just don't slam the door on your way out."

"No problem," he said, watching as something crawled into the shadows before nudging Ron.

"Happy New Year," the Ron said, his mouth twitching slightly in apprehension as he saw a spider scuttle across the ceiling before he practically ran out of the office.

"Shut the door," was the disgruntled reply. Harry turned and walked towards the door, shaking his head as he caught a glimpse of a person with red hair quickly making his way down the hall, wondering what had gotten into him.

"Potter!" called a man from somewhere in the midst of a mass of cubicles.

He looked around wildly, finally seeing a man waving at him from a compartment five sections away from the end where he was standing. Smiling, he began walking towards his friend.

"Harvey," he said, acknowledging him with a nod once he had come within earshot.

"And how are you?"

"I'm all right, thanks. How about you?"

"Couldn't be better. You got the invitation for my party, right?"

"I'll be there 6:00 sharp."

"Great. I'll see you there."

Harry nodded again as he was clapped on the back heartily before walking back towards the small office that he and his friend occupied during the workday.

"Where were you?" asked Ron as he walked in.

"Harvey asked me if I was going to his party tomorrow. You're going too, aren't you?"

"Yeah. He already asked me if I was going to be there,"

"So, you're bringing Hermione, aren't you?" he said, sitting down in his squeaky revolving chair and leaning back, propping his feet on his desk.

"Yes," came the curt reply, as he blushed slightly.

"Ron?"

"Hmm?"

"You know, I've been thinking. Since you've been dating Hermione for about two years now, don't you think it's time to, you know?"

At this comment he turned crimson completely as he said, "What do you mean by that?"

"I meant that you should ask her to marry you." He said, smirking as he guessed what his friend had been thinking; a soft sound of realization followed by a look of embarrassment and timidity confirmed his suspicions.

"You know I don't think that way, Ron," he said calmly, still gazing intently at him. "Answer my question."

"I… don't know," he admitted. "I've been thinking about it for a while, but I'm not so sure we're both ready."

"You've been seeing each other for long enough, haven't you? Two years,"

"Yes, you've already said that."

"So…?"

He sighed. "I-I just want it to be perfect, you know? I know it sounds a bit stupid, but I want her to be completely certain about everything first, and then I want her to always remember and treasure how I proposed to her. I… I want her to be able to brag about how romantic it was…"

Harry struggled to catch the last part of Ron's confession, and, having understood everything said, he replied, "Look at it this way; all three of us have been accepted into that Auror training course. If you were married to her, it'd make everything ten times better."

"What about you? It's not as though you've got someone."

It was his turn to sigh. "Ron, life isn't perfect. I, of all people, should know that. I'll find someone if I find someone, and if I don't, I'll just accept it. You, however, need to focus on your own life. You and Hermione have known each other since you were eleven years old, and you're finally together. What you need to remember is to hold onto something this precious. Don't let it go. Never let it go."

"You think, that after seven years of learning that I had feelings for her and then working up the nerve to ask her on that first date I'll let her go?" Ron said wryly, smiling. "You'll see. When the time comes, you'll see."

"All right," said Harry, shrugging and grinning back. "I'm just saying, everyone's expecting you to ask her soon."

"I know _that_," he said, snorting. "Mum's been dropping hints for months now, saying how much she'd like to see me settled down, and talking about _grandchildren_, for heaven's sakes, Harry. _Grandchildren_! As if Percy and Bill hadn't provided her with enough already!"

"Mm… how many do they have?"

"Percy and Penelope have three, and Bill and his wife have four."

"Seven… a bit too few, if you're planning on starting your own army of Weasleys, which is, no doubt what your mother wants," he joked, taking his feet off of his desk as he saw Cornelius Fudge walking down the hallway. He waved to the Minister, who in turn nodded approvingly before walking on.

"Ha, ha, very funny," Ron said dryly, throwing his own chair's seat cushion at him, hitting his friend squarely in the face.

"Imagine the possibilities," Harry continued, keeping an eye on Fudge. "A Weasley invasion, redheads taking the world by storm and seizing each government one by one…"

"That's _enough_." He said firmly, shooting him a sideways warning look.

"Anyway, you really should ask her soon," he replied, switching back to their original conversation topic.

"Bloody hell!" Ron exploded. "I get the point! I'll start planning everything out now! Happy?"

"Very," he said, grinning widely and leaning back in his chair again as the Minister of Magic disappeared from sight.

* * *

A/N: You know what really bothers me? How I can feel so happy about having so many reviews one minute and then seeing other stories that have like, four chapters with 91 reviews. 91! Life sucks… but I'm glad I have faithful reviewers to see me through. I guess I'm having a moment here; having reviewers that stay with you for a long time mean a lot more than twenty that you just hear from once and then never again who never show you a single bit of encouragement when you need it the most after that one review. Thanks so much to you all for making life itself a little bit easier for me to bear. :-)

Now, with that out of the way, I have two questions. **One, does anybody out there speak fluent German or knows someone who does? **Because I need to translate something… two, **which female character in the HP books do you think is the most insecure and most likely to have her parents, etc. order her around and obeying those orders? **I'm looking for a character that isn't independent at all and doesn't have the guts to speak her own mind. I'm kind of thinking of one character at the moment, but I'm not sure about how easy it would be to write about her. Anyway, Happy New Year to everybody and thanks for all of your feedback and support! See ya in 2004!


	7. Shopping, Dinners, and a Discovery

** Chapter 7**

Cho examined the thin material, frowning in disapproval.

"Marietta, I don't think-"

"Nonsense, orange fits you perfectly! It's not as if you have red hair," Marietta said, crossing her arms stubbornly and cocking her head to the side slightly.

"When I said that I wanted to find an outfit for the party, this wasn't exactly what I had in mind," Cho started, cringing inwardly at the revolting neon orange dress she had draped over her arms; much like her judgment in men, her friend had an… interesting taste in clothing. Cho often wondered how she had managed to find such a normal, caring man like John… "I really do think that black dress I chose will be better."

"No, just trust me on this. You're going to a party, not a funeral. Try on that dress. Go on. Go!"

She sighed; it was one of those many times where she would just have to go with Marietta and do as she was told. Turning around and trudging halfheartedly into the dressing room, she entered the closest booth and closed the door, emerging minutes later with her nose wrinkled in dislike.

"It's too low-cut," she complained, trying in vain to cover the skin exposed by the revealing neckline of the dress.

"No, it just makes you look more alluring and mysterious. Now turn around so that I can see how it looks from every angle," she said, looking pleased with herself.

Cho gave a quick whirl to appease her friend before saying quickly, "All right, it's not my color, shape, or style. I should probably try on that black dress."

"Wait! I haven't even told you how fabulous the dress looks on you!" Marietta said hurriedly as a blur of orange rushed back into the dressing room. An audible sigh of relief escaped the thin walls of the small room and the faint rustling of a dress being taken off was heard. Feeling as though she had been insulted, Marietta sat back down again on the sofa and took to turning the pages of a magazine lying nearby viciously until she had almost torn it apart completely. She looked up as the door opened again and Cho stepped out, wearing the black dress she herself had chosen, with delicate silver flowers intricately designed onto the thin top layer of the dress, and backed by a thicker material.

"So? What do you think of _this_ dress?"

She put down the tattered magazine and placed her hands in her lap, examining the way the outfit curved according to the contours of her friend's body and fit it perfectly without looking as though she would barely be able to walk or the exact opposite, where it would look too loose.

Sniffing scornfully, she picked up the magazine saying, "It's all right, I guess," but secretly admiring how well her friend had chosen a dress that completely suited her personality and physique.

"_And_ it's three times cheaper than the other dress you chose."

"Don't rub it in," she muttered, trying to turn the dilapidated sheets of the periodical she had just half destroyed.

Smirking, Cho walked back into the room to change into her regular clothes and replace the dress on its hanger; she had caught the look of approval her friend had worn before it dissolved into disgruntlement as she returned to the no longer glossy magazine. Having accomplished this, she draped it over her arm and walked out of the room the sight of Marietta standing up, looking more than ready to leave. Cho motioned for her to follow as she walked towards the checkout counter and shook her head as she heard her begin muttering to herself about how at least John liked her sense of style.

"Marietta, give it a rest. That dress was just too… wild for me. Besides, I really, really like this one." She said, laying it down on the counter.

"Whatever suits you," was the cool reply.

"That'll be ₤15," said the saleswoman brightly.

Cho pulled out a few crisp bills and handed it to her, catching a sign of movement out of the corner of her eye and shooting a warning look at Marietta, who was carefully taking aim at the woman with a Galleon in between her thumb and index finger. She quickly withdrew her hand and hid it behind her back, grinning sheepishly. After she had made her purchase, she took her friend by the wrist and dragged her out of the shop, only stopping outside to glance towards the woman to make sure they were out of earshot before saying with a deadly glare, "Explain yourself."

"Well, see, I recognized as her the idiot who yelled at me the last time we were in that store, and so, I-"

"- Decided to do something very immature in return," she finished. "Please, Marietta. I'd like to make it through today without you getting yourself into trouble."

"All right, don't get all upset. We can just go back to your flat now that we've gotten everything," she said hastily.

"We might as well," Cho said, throwing her hands up in exasperation. Marietta sighed in relief and immediately walked towards the front entrance, her friend following close behind. Once they had stepped out onto the busy sidewalk, neither one of them said a word as they made their way back towards Cho's apartment building, Marietta glancing sideways at her friend every now and then.

"Well," she said after a few minutes, "at least we've done what we needed to do."

"You mean, what you wanted me to do," Cho said, smiling and setting Marietta at ease again.

"Still, you have to admit that you enjoyed yourself."

"Except for when you forced me to try on that dress."

"Fine then, except for that."

"So," she said, opening the door to her building and holding it for Marietta, "who else is going to be at John's party tomorrow?"

She shrugged, causing the shopping bags hanging on her arms to collide with each other and the contents rattle slightly. "People from work, close friends, neighbors. I'm sure he's invited as many people as his flat can hold, which, I should mention, is rather large." She could barely conceal the note of pride in her voice.

"You, of all people, should know," she said slyly, pressing the button for the elevator.

Marietta opened her mouth to say something before closing it again, finally comprehending what her friend was implying, and beginning to blush; at that moment, she was saved from further comment as the doors opened with a ring and they entered, without a word. Cho pressed the button for the eighth floor and the doors began to close slowly before they finally came together to reflect the smirk on her face.

"Anyway," she continued, beginning to rummage in her purse to keep her face turned downwards until it had returned to its normal color, "loads of people will be there, and it would be a miracle if we didn't find someone who suited you perfectly."

"To be honest, I think it would be a phenomenon if we did. Or, rather, _you_ did."

Marietta scowled and said, "All right then, what is _your_ idea of an ideal man? At least then I'll know what to keep an eye out for."

She tilted her head slightly and gazed off, her eyes unconsciously concentrating on the reflection of her feet in the double doors in front of her, thinking carefully. What _was_ her idea of the perfect man?

"A sense of humor like mine," she started slowly, "taller than I am, but not too much… I don't really care much about the physical features. There's only one limit to those; he can't be shorter than I am."

"That should be easy enough," her friend said, who was easily taller than her by three inches.

"It's just that- everything I'd like in a man can be changed to fit _your_ personality. Say, for example, that I said I'd like someone considerate, you'd find a man who'd stick to me like he'd been charmed to stay by my side permanently and wait on me hand and foot. You're the type of person who craves for that sort of attention, and so, he would catch your eye immediately. Do you see what I'm saying?" she said, trying her best not to offend her friend.

"I… think so," she said, looking almost absolutely clueless; she never had been a very good liar.

Cho sighed. "I'll just point someone out to you and then you can go and strike up a conversation with him and then, somehow get onto the subject of dating and gradually introduce him to me. Very simple."

"So, you'll pick out someone in the crowd that you want to be introduced to, and then I have to talk to him, slipping you into the conversation?"

"Exactly."

"Whatever suits you," she said, shrugging one shoulder and looking doubtful.

"Trust me," she replied. "This is the only way both you and I can save ourselves the trouble and humiliation."

"If you say so," Marietta said, beginning to look more and more uninterested in the topic.

"Have you read the Daily Prophet lately? Can you believe that Cornelius Fudge was elected for another five years in office?" she said purposely steering the conversation in an entirely different direction.

"Honestly," was the obviously thankful reply, "you'd think that now we all have a say in who our Minister of Magic is, someone else would be chosen. I personally think that a considerable amount of money went into countless hands in order to fill that ballot box with votes in his favor."

"Nobody ever said that politics were honest," Cho said, smiling. The doors slid open and they stepped out onto the nicely carpeted floor of the corridor.

"You should run for office someday," said her friend.

"Me?" she said, taken by surprise. "Why?"

"You've got the charisma for it, and we need a woman in charge of the Ministry for once."

"Well, that's very flattering, Marietta, but I doubt I'd be that suited for the position."

"It's just a suggestion," she said, shrugging.

"And I'm grateful for your faith in me," she replied, pulling out the key to her flat and unlocking the door. "Why don't you stay for dinner? You can help me make it," she added.

"Hmm… well, if I recall correctly, John has to work overtime tonight and I have absolutely nothing to do, so… sure, why not?"

"Great. Just set your things down in the living room and wait for me in the kitchen while I put away my dress." She said, walking slowly towards her room as she spoke over her shoulder. Carefully removing the protective plastic wrapping from her new dress, she opened the doors of her closet and hung it on the metal bar before closing it again. Turning to leave, she gave a startled squeal as a large owl flew in to stop in mid-air, still flapping its long wings, and hold out a thick letter to her. She gave a sigh of relief as she recognized the family owl and gratefully took the envelope, stroking it on the head for a few seconds and then walking back out to the kitchen.

"What? What is it? What happened?" Marietta said, looking worried.

"I got a small scare from Aphrodite, that's all."

"The family owl?"

"Yes. She brought me a letter from…" There was a pause as she looked on the envelope for the name of the letter's sender. "Mum. It's a letter from my mother."

"Well? Go ahead, open it." She said.

Cho pulled on the flap and took out the letter, unfolding it before scanning its contents quickly. A small crease of confusion appeared between her eyes as she finished off the final few sentences and remained there as she set it down on the table to glance at the beautiful owl, still there and now perched on a chair, and then to stare off into space, lost in thought.

"Cho? What does it say?"

"It says that… she and Dad have gone on a vacation to the States for a while. To visit relatives, they said. That's why Aphrodite hasn't gone yet. They want me to keep her for them, just until they get back."

"Don't they want you to write them or vice versa while they're gone?"

"They said that they wouldn't have enough time in between places to take the time to sit down and read or write anything," she said, the look of lingering bewilderment on her face. "I suppose the only thing is to do what they say and take her in, just for the time being."

"Is there any other choice?" said Marietta rhetorically.

"Mm… well, let's get going with dinner, shall we?"

"All right. What should I do first?"

"Go and get that cookbook from top bookshelf in the living room and get your wand ready," she said, turning to pull a spare bag of owl treats out of a bottom cabinet and making a mental note to buy more food for Aphrodite the next day.

Outside, Marietta was browsing through the titles of each book on the bookshelf. Tucking a stray tendril of strawberry-blonde hair behind her ear, she tilted her head to the side a bit to help reading the words on the spines of the books.

"Aha!" she muttered to herself when her eyes landed on the cookbook. Easing it off of the shelf with one hand holding the other books in place, she pulled the book out and had half-turned to go when she noticed a small piece of paper sticking out of the top of the book, inserted somewhere in the middle of the book. Arching an eyebrow in curiosity, she opened the covers and flipped the pages until she had reached the marked page.

_Spinach Quiche_ read the top of the page. That couldn't be right… Cho _hated_ spinach in any form. Her sharp eyes then swept towards the paper that had kept the place in the book; it had looked as though it had been hastily shoved into that spot, being tilted at an angle with only a top corner rising above the top of the page. It was a newspaper clipping.

* * *

"Harry, Ron, Hermione left a message for me to give to you saying that she's on the main floor, waiting to go to dinner with the two of you," said the young secretary.

"Thank you, Danielle," said Harry, nodding his head politely before turning to Ron and saying quickly, gathering his things together, "Finish it up. Hermione said that she'd made reservations at that new restaurant in Diagon Alley for dinner and if we don't come when she asks us to, they'll give away our table."

"Hold on," said his friend in a strained voice. "The—bloody—filing cabinet—won't—close—" He was leaning against the metal drawer, trying to close it, despite the fact that it was filled to bursting and the papers were all askew; at the mention of Hermione, he had haphazardly thrown every file he had currently been looking over and occasionally marking into the cabinet, looking as though he was more than ready to leave.

Harry shook his head, and with a flick of his wand rearranged the papers magically to fit perfectly inside the drawer, causing Ron to receive a shock as it closed abruptly, knocking the wind out of him.

"I don't know whether I should thank you or choke you," he gasped, pausing for a second to catch his breath before putting his own possessions in his bag and following his friend out the door.

"Would you like to lock it, or should I?" Harry inquired, motioning to the still unlocked door.

"I don't want to bother with it just now," was the reply as the redhead began to walk towards the golden gates of the elevator. Pulling out the keys, he inserted the metallic gold one into the lock, gave it a turn, tested the door to see if it had locked all the way and put an extra charm on it as a precaution before following behind Ron. By the time he had caught up, the doors had already slid open and a relatively large group of people was standing, chattering with each other and evidently in no real hurry, except for the one person who was standing in the very front of the crowd, shooting daggers from his bright blue eyes at him. He stepped in and Ron jabbed the button for the doors to close, the one for the main floor having already been pressed.

"Can't this damn elevator go any faster?" he complained, constantly taking glances at his watch and looking increasingly despaired.

"Don't worry," said his friend soothingly. "I'm sure it we'll be there in time."

He gave a moan and his hands twitched slightly, almost as though he was struggling to keep them from giving a tug of frustration at his flaming red hair, his ears slowly beginning to match in color.

Just as Harry thought Ron had reached the point of exploding, whether it would be verbally or physically being the mystery, the cool female voice was heard announcing the main floor level and with a small ding, the doors opened to reveal the main floor of the Ministry of Magic. Ron sped out of the elevator and almost ran to the center of the room where Hermione was waiting for them beside the fountain, restored soon after Voldemort's final downfall, with her arms crossed and her foot tapping slightly as she watched two paintings on the wall squabbling over some unknown offense. She let out a small sigh of relief as she spotted them approaching her and with a slightly reprimanding smile, waved to them, hugging Harry first and then doing the same to Ron with a kiss on the cheek added once they had reached her.

"Thank goodness. I was beginning to get a bit fidgety when one of the paintings over there, the lady, threatened to pull out a knife and cut off that painted man's—"

"Never mind that," said her boyfriend hastily as he and Harry gave an involuntary shudder. "We need to go before we lose our table."

"He's gotten more punctual every day since our first date," she muttered proudly to Harry as the second youngest Weasley began half walking and half running again.

"I'm not quite sure if that's good or bad," he murmured back as Ron narrowly avoided running straight into the telephone booth in his rush.

"Would you hurry it up?" he called impatiently, sliding open the clear glass door. They walked quickly to calm him down a bit and stepped in, barely escaping being crushed by the door as it was slammed shut and the booth began to rise. As soon as the door opened again, the two were almost jogging to keep up with Ron's long strides and, to their relief, they were soon standing in front of the restaurant, panting heavily.

"Ladies first," said Ron, holding the door open for Hermione, who smiled and walked in. He followed suit and, not thinking, left his post at the door, nearly causing Harry to collide head-on with the extremely clean glass. He narrowed his eyes slightly, his friend not noticing his mistake, being busy helping Hermione into a chair, gentleman as he was. Sighing, he supposed that a few exceptions had to be made in the name of love and chose not to pester him with something so trivial. Instead, he sat down and picked up the menu, looking down the list of food items; unlike other restaurant or cafés he had been to, this one had a multi-cultural theme, with different dishes ranging in area from the United States to Indonesia, and certainly a few interesting mixes that he had never even heard of before.

"What do you think seaweed with powdered grindylow bone sauce tastes like?" he asked.

"No idea," Ron said, making a face.

"I imagine it's fairly interesting if they don't crush the bones properly…" said Hermione, looking a bit thoughtful as she read the small print as to what all went with that particular dish.

"What would you like to drink?" asked the waitress, pulling a pad of paper and a quill out of her apron pocket and the small nametag placed carefully above her shirt pocket reading Loretta.

"I'll have water," said Harry, looking up momentarily.

"I think I will as well…" said Hermione absently, still reading through the list.

"Water sounds all right to me," said Ron automatically.

"I'll be right back, then, to take your orders." She said briskly, sticking the quill behind her ear and walking towards the kitchen.

"So, Harry, Ron, how was work today?" asked Hermione, setting down the menu and propping her chin on one hand.

"It was all right." Harry said, shrugging. "Fisher was a bit less ill-tempered today."

"At least he didn't yell at me again," Ron muttered, deliberately hiding his face behind his menu.

She coughed to hide a small laugh and her smile grew wider as her eyes met Harry's, none of this small exchange coming to the attention of the man sitting calmly with the glossy menu spread open in front of his face.

"How are things in your department?" he asked, putting it down.

"They're all right. Female Aurors in this Ministry are rare, so it's a bit dull; they only let us read files concerning cases taken care of by women, the prejudiced dimwits," she said, an edge in her voice as she finished speaking.

"You'd think that the fact you graduated as valedictorian and Head Girl would mean something," Ron said, shaking his head.

"Well, you'll prove them wrong. Once we've all completed our training, you'll make those old-fashioned notions disappear from their minds. You'll be a one-woman revolution." Said Harry reassuringly.

"Well, I'm not sure about being a revolution, but I'm thankful for the support all the same," she said, the grin on her face reappearing.

"Ready to order?" said the waitress, setting down the three glasses of water, small cubes of ice floating on top of them with a slice of lemon on the rim, and pulling out her pad and quill again.

"Yes, um, I'll have the Caesar Salad with thousand island dressing, a small bowl of the tomato soup, and the roast beef dish." Said Hermione, handing her menu to the waitress.

"Would you like the rice and vegetables or a bread roll with the roast beef?"

"Mm, I'll have both," she answered, turning away from the sight of Loretta writing down her order to look at Ron and Harry, who were staring openmouthed at her.

"What?" she said defensively.

"Nothing," Harry said quickly.

"You know I like a girl who eats," said Ron indifferently.

"I'd like the All-American Special, and hold the mustard and pickles on the cheeseburger," said Harry, handing over his menu as well.

"And I'll have the All-American Special as well, with everything," Ron said, giving Loretta the last of the menus.

"Will that be all?" she asked, putting away her pad and quill.

"Yes, thank you." Hermione said, with a grateful nod. "Now, where were we?"

"We were talking about you being a one-woman revolution," Ron reminded her.

"Ah, yes… we'll just have to wait and see, won't we?" she said, taking a sip from her drink.

"You know, Harry and I were talking earlier today about the fact that he doesn't have anyone."

"Of course he does! Don't be silly! He has us."

"No, I meant that he doesn't have… what's the word for it? A 'special someone'? A girlfriend?"

"Actually, that _is_ a good question," she said, looking at Harry. "You're the famous Harry Potter, the 'Boy-who-lived.' "—She made quotation mark motions with her fingers—"Surely that means something to women."

"Yeah," he said, giving a derisive snort. "If you're looking for a way to become a celebrity, just go out on a date with me and you have instant fame."

"Oh, it can't be that bad, can it?" she asked incredulously.

"Worse," said Ron. "He not only turns down every woman who's interested in him, but he goes far enough to try and avoid the female population by all means possible."

Hermione turned to look at him, her eyebrows raised in surprise; he, in turn, lowered his head slightly and said, "It's not quite like that."

"So, what _is_ it like then?" she said, her face softening slightly.

"It's… difficult to explain. It's just… I think I'll know when I find the right woman. All the other women who've pursued me, they're all looking for something in me to improve their lives. If someone's dated me once, they're bound to be remembered in all the bloody tabloids that'll dig up these things every now and then and publish them just to do it."

"Are you looking for perfection or something of the like? Because it certainly sounds like your expectations and standards are unusually high." She said, lowering one eyebrow to give him an inquiring look.

"You haven't even considered going out with someone else since your fifth year at Hogwarts." Ron added, fishing an ice cube out of his glass with his spoon and popping it into his mouth.

"Trust me. I'll know when I find her."

"If you say so," said Hermione, looking skeptical, her expression abruptly changing to one of excitement as she remembered something and then adding, "Did you hear about Lavender Brown?"

Harry shook his head and added slyly, "I thought you weren't one for gossip."

She rolled her eyes. "When you work with a group of the most feminine, fluttery, dunce-headed—"

"We get the general idea." Ron said, stopping her.

"Let's just say that the time that should be spent reading over old reports or files is usually spent reading the latest issue of Witch Weekly." She finished, looking disgusted. "They must have rubbed off on me."

"So? What about Lavender?"

"She's getting married."

"To who?" asked Ron disbelievingly.

"Roger Davies."

"Well, congratulations to them," Harry said, smiling. "When is the wedding?"

"I'm not sure, but she stopped by the office today just to tell me the good news."

"Why didn't she tell Parvati first?"

"She did. She told me second. Anyway, she said that she'd be inviting all of us, Gryffindor loyalty and all. Now, if only Ginny could settle down as well, hmm?" said Hermione, looking at Ron with malicious sarcasm.

"There's no way in _hell_ she's going to marry any man at her age," he replied stubbornly.

"You seem to forget that she's nineteen going on twenty, Ron."

"Exactly. She's too young."

She shook her head and looked exasperatingly at Harry, who raised his eyebrows in return.

"Old habits die hard," he muttered.

"In this case, they'll never die at all," she said under her breath.

"What was that?" Ron said sharply.

"I said, 'They've recently repainted the main hall.' "

He narrowed his eyes at her, looking suspicious, and Harry tried his best not to smile _too_ broadly.

* * *

"What the…?" was all that flashed through Marietta's mind as she looked carefully at the newspaper clipping, a picture of Harry Potter being almost the only item on it.

"Maybe…" she muttered aloud, thinking hard and putting several pieces of the puzzle together. And it all made sense. Why she hadn't dated anyone she had truly liked in the past few years. Why she never tried to look for someone else by herself. But there was a small chance, just a sliver of a chance that maybe… she sincerely hoped that John would get off of work soon enough for her to be able to ask him a few questions.

"Marietta? What's taking so long?"

"Um, I couldn't find it, but now I see it," she called back.

"Well, hurry it up a bit, won't you?"

"Coming!" she said, hastily slipping the picture in-between two random books on the middle shelf and walking back to the kitchen, a new plan already formulating in her head.

* * *

A/N: Bet you thought this was going to be the chapter with the party, didn't you? C'mon, admit it! Hee hee hee… evil, evil, evil… Okay, weird ranting mode over. I'm so sorry this took so long! But this one's a lot longer than the last one. Honestly, I had such a good response to the last chapter and it was just, in my opinion, the best chapter I've written for anything and so it was really hard to follow up with something just as good, you know? Plus, I've had a case of writer's block (be glad it was a little bit under a month you had to wait, with my schedule added into the mix!) and so this was just a chapter I really struggled with. Oh, and as for my obsession with writing about Harry and Cho's friends saying over and over again that they should begin dating again, it's just to emphasize the fact that they're totally isolating themselves away from other people and how they're all alone. Yeah. Thanks to you all for being here for me and reviewing.

As for the poll I took, the choices for the most insecure female character are as follows: Cho, Hermione, Ginny, Marietta, and Pansy. If you'll pick one of these and tell me which on you've selected in your review, I'd be very grateful. Also, although this doesn't seem to go over well with my reviewers for my other story, I've decided that this is review one of Unicorn13's lesser-read stories month. I wouldn't suggest Pansy's Story, because it was my very first fan fic and in all honesty, it… sucks, but I think you'd like the other two, which are songfics. You don't have to; I just got this strange urge to decide upon that. Yeah. Anyway, can't wait to hear from all of you, and hopefully more than that!

Unicorn13


	8. New Year's Plans

**A/N:** Just a very short author's note here saying only that good things come to those who wait. (winks and smiles) Enjoy! Oh, and don't think you're getting off without me doing my usual ranting at the end of the chapter, so stick around.

** Chapter 8**

Harry examined himself in the mirror, feeling a bit self-conscious, smoothing out the wrinkles in his jacket and, after careful thought, unbuttoning the top button on the collar of his blue shirt. It wasn't tucked in, as his personal sense of style commanded him to do, giving him a more carefree and relaxed look, although his face certainly would have given away the fact that his feelings weren't quite as calm, and yet… he couldn't quite identify what was making him so jittery. It was just a vague feeling that something was going to happen, something unexpected… He turned to the side, picking a few pieces of lint off of his slacks and making sure his shoes looked all right, his socks matching.

"Ron and Hermione will be here any minute," he thought after a glance at the clock. Apparating would be too risky, and so they'd have to settle for calling a muggle taxi once they were ready to leave, he remembered, reading the invitation over again and then setting it back down on his dresser.

Hedwig gave a short hoot crossly, interrupting his preparation, picking up her food bowl and flying over to him, boldly setting it down at his feet as a little dog would.

"All right, Hedwig, I'm going, I'm going," he assured her, picking up the bowl and walking towards the kitchen, the owl flying before him to land on the counter next to the sink.

He opened a wooden cabinet door and pulled out a bag of owl food, opening the clip that he had put there to keep it tightly closed and unfolding the very top of the bag before pouring some into the medium-sized bowl. She chirped shortly in thanks, nipping his fingers gently in affection.

"We've come a long way since our days at Privet Drive, haven't we?" he murmured, gently stroking her with one hand. Smiling, he walked back to his bedroom, to stand in front of the mirror again and continue to make small adjustments.

Should he wear a tie? No, the party wasn't _that_ formal…

A spray of cologne, straightening his collar, and he was as satisfied with how he looked as he would ever be. Walking out to his living room, he sat down on the sofa and picked up the book on Quidditch he had been reading in his spare time lately, and couldn't help but think, with a smile, that Hermione would be proud of him. Just as he had comfortably situated himself, however, the doorbell rang, and he jumped up to answer it.

Glancing through the peephole, he was pleased to see Ron waiting on the other side of the door, looking smartly dressed, which was most likely more of Hermione's doing.

"Ready?" he asked when he had opened the door.

"As ready as you are," Harry replied, smiling, and then his smile melting into a frown as he noticed that Ron was alone in the hallway. "Where's Hermione?" he asked.

"Oh, she's on the sidewalk downstairs, hailing a taxi for us. With what she has on, I'm sure she won't have a problem," Ron answered, smirking.

The smile returned to Harry's face as they walked to the elevator and he pressed the button.

"You approve of her dress, then?" he asked.

"Wait until you see her… she'll leave your mouth hanging open for a good while," was the confident answer.

"I'll take your word for it."

"Well, you won't have to for very long. You'll see her soon enough for yourself."

"I wonder how many people from this building alone were invited to New Year's parties elsewhere," he commented as the elevator doors slid open. As they walked in, both became painfully aware of the fact that the small area was packed to its fullest capacity, barely leaving room for them.

"Does this answer your question?" Ron asked as he squeezed up against the back wall beside Harry.

"I believe so… I know that this building isn't exactly the best place for large celebrations, but this is a bit ridiculous," he said in a strained voice, already beginning to feel lightheaded from the lack of open space.

Everyone groaned as the elevator stopped once again at the eighth floor.

"I'm sorry, ladies, but there's no more room," informed someone in the front. "You can probably catch it on its next time around."

"All right, it's no problem," replied a voice calmly, revealing no signs of disappointment in her tone, if she was.

"That voice…" thought Harry, a sharp sense of familiarity snatching his attention as soon as the woman spoke. He craned his neck to the left, trying to get a better view before the doors closed, but there were too many people obstructing his view, and the doors soon shut again, sending them on their way once more. They made a few more stops on the way down, the same person appointing himself notify the either eagerly or impatiently waiting people that they had no more room to accommodate them. By far, the tenant on the eighth floor had been the most polite, Harry decided, as a woman on the second floor began raising her voice, sending an assortment of vulgar language and threats echoing down the halls. Everyone exhaled sharply in relief as they reached the floor level, and Ron didn't bother to fight the urge to push and elbow his way through the crowd to get outside, Harry following likewise.

They walked across the smooth floor of the lobby quickly, immediately spotting Hermione through the clear doors. Opening the closest ones, they rushed out to where she stood, and nearly threw her into the taxi before stepping in themselves, panicking as they saw the barrage of people coming, all of them thinking that they'd be able to steal away the cab that she had saved. As the car sped away from the building, Harry and Ron breathing heavily and unevenly, Hermione only arched an eyebrow and gave them a dirty look, evidently not pleased with her rash way of being forced into the car.

"What was _that_ about?" she queried, looking as though she would've been tapping her foot in disapproval if she had been standing.

"It's not important," Ron panted, waving his hand dismissively. Both he and Harry were still struggling to catch their breaths, not quite being used to such vigorous exercise.

She rolled her eyes, smiling, and crossed her legs, sitting back in her seat and pulling her wrap closer to her body as she crossed her arms as well.

"'Mione," said Harry suddenly, his jaw dropping in surprise as he took a more careful look at her dress; not being the flashy sort of girl, she hadn't chosen a dress that would expose nearly all of her body, but it was enough to make Ron gape at her unashamedly until she began to blush under his adoring gaze and match perfectly with the dark red of the material it was made from.

"I clean up fairly well, don't you think?" she said, smirking slightly at the look of absolute awe Harry was ogling her with.

"Well—yeah," he said, looking flabbergasted.

"Thank you," was her grateful reply.

"How long do you think it'll be until we get there?" asked Ron, finally taking his gaze off of Hermione.

"About ten more minutes, I believe," she replied, taking a quick look at her watch.

"We'll still be fairly early, then," said Ron, relaxing.

"I wonder if John's girlfriend will be at the party," Hermione mused. "He's always been so quiet and reserved about these things."

"A lot like another person we know," Harry said, staring pointedly at Ron.

"At least we know he's serious about his relationships," continued Hermione, ignoring Harry. "I know he's been seeing her for about three years now; it's a wonder he hasn't proposed yet."

"Actually… can you two keep a secret?" Harry asked quietly.

"Of course we can," said Hermione, leaning in closer.

"Well, John was talking to me yesterday after I ran into him in Diagon Alley and he said that tonight—" he paused for dramatic effect.

"Get on with it!" hissed Ron impatiently, trying to disguise his own evident discomfort on the still touchy subject of marriage proposals.

"—he's going to propose to his girlfriend. That's why he's been 'working overtime' so much lately. He's been planning out the best way to ask her at the party," finished Harry, before returning his piercing gaze to Ron, sending his friend an inescapably clear message that Hermione didn't seem to notice.

"Oh, that's so romantic!" exclaimed Hermione, looking as though she was about to keel over in sentimental happiness.

The tables turned with amazing speed and it was their turn to raise their eyebrows at _her_.

"Work," she said promptly, seeming to be trying with a great deal of effort not to beat herself over the head.

"Who is it?" asked Ron, turning back towards Harry.

He shrugged. "No idea. As Hermione's already said, Harvey's a secretive fellow, that's for sure."

"But he told you about his plans," interrupted Hermione.

"I had run into him while he was picking out the engagement ring."

"Oh."

"Going to a party?" asked the driver, startling them.

"As a matter of fact, we are," said Harry, recovering quickly.

"Ah, yes, to be young and going to a party," said the elderly driver, nodding. "I remember a party I went to once." He chuckled softly. "The Ministry officials had a time of it trying to modify the memories of those muggles living in the building across the street. I ask you, though, how do you possibly explain to people like that about how Filibuster's Fireworks react with dungbombs, in the right potion?"

"How?" asked Ron, leaning forward.

"Exploded. Every last one of 'em. Left a stink strong enough to stay there for a good three weeks afterwards and flashing lights bright enough to give you a tan."

"Sounds like you had a good time," said Hermione, grinning.

"I hope you three do as well," he said, turning the steering wheel to the left and parking against the curb. "Here we are. Happy New Year," he added.

"Happy New Year, and thank you," said Harry handing him a few bills.

He tipped his hat in appreciation and waited patiently until Ron had closed the door before driving off.

"He seemed like a nice man," commented Hermione.

"Yeah… you don't find that kind very often nowadays," said Ron absently, not really interested in pursuing the subject further. Taking her by the hand and beginning to walk towards the building, Harry following behind, he opened the door, led her in, and remembered, with a great deserving of praise, to wait for his friend as well, before closing it and walking towards the elevator.

"I had no idea John's building was this extravagant," Hermione said, marveling at the size of the entrance hall itself.

"If I remember correctly, he owns an entire floor," Harry said, pressing the button for the elevator.

"No wonder he's invited so many people," said Ron. "Hermione, you _do_ have our invitation, don't you?"

"Am I supposed to?" she said indifferently.

His eyes bulged out of their sockets as he asked frantically, "You don't have it?"

"I do, I do!" she said hurriedly. "But why do we need it?"

He relaxed and replied with a shrug, "Honestly, I don't know if we do, but I thought we'd need it just in case John's hired someone to check off guests at the door."

"Well, not to worry; it's in my purse," she said, holding up her wrist on which her handbag was hanging off of.

"I doubt you'll need it… John never was one for that sort of thing," said Harry, sounding unperturbed by the whole situation.

The elevator gave a ding as it stopped and its doors opened, interrupting their conversation.

"What floor is it?" asked Hermione, preparing to hunt for the correct button amongst the sea of floor selections lining the wall.

"Floor thirty-five, I believe. What does it say on the invitation?" said Harry.

"Let's see," she muttered, pulling it out of her bag. "You're right; it's on the thirty-fifth floor." She added after reading the fine print on the bottom of the card. Pressing the button, she moved towards Harry and Ron on the glass side of the elevator to watch in interest as each floor whirled past.

"I think I'm going to be sick," Ron complained after the fifteenth floor.

"Shh… listen; do you hear that?" Hermione said suddenly.

"No," said Harry, straining his ears.

"Is that… music?" asked Ron incredulously, still looking nauseous.

"It sounds like it," replied Hermione.

"You don't think…" Harry said, trailing off.

"It can't be," said Hermione.

Loud, upbeat music blared from somewhere overhead, echoing off the walls, and certainly causing more than several of the disgruntled neighbors who evidently been planning to have a good night's sleep to come out in their robes and slippers, slamming their doors behind them (no doubt locking themselves out of their flats) to shake their fists and yell upwards or downwards in the direction of the noise. Threats of calling the authorities mingled in with other more extreme solutions rang in their ears and only added to the chaos and caused them to become increasingly nervous as they neared the thirty-fifth floor.

As the elevator came to a stop, they walked off of the elevator, astonishment newly rekindled at how the doors opened straight into the apartment and relief washing over them as they heard only the chatter of the small crowd gathered, a Silencing Charm evidently having been placed on the flat.

John spotted them from across the room and made his way toward them through a slowly accumulating crowd of people, happily chatting with each other, drinks in hand.

"So you finally made it, eh? And with a few minutes to spare; it's only 6:55, you know," he said, shaking hands with each one of them.

"Trust me, it feels like it's taken much longer than it really took us to get here," said Harry, letting out a tired sigh before collapsing on a couch, feeling as though he had already had more of an adventure than he needed.

* * *

"How do I look?" Cho asked, holding her arms out to both sides in a form of display.

"You're gorgeous, perfection," said Marietta quickly, barely looking up as she gathered her things together hastily.

"You only say that because you're in a hurry," she said, smiling and shaking her head.

"Well, we _are_ running a bit late and you didn't help it very much by taking your time getting dressed," her friend replied, standing up and taking a last look around to check for anything she might've missed.

"We've got plenty of time, Marietta, calm yourself down. Besides, I thought you liked being 'fashionably late,' "

"_Fashionably_, yes, but not _abominably_. There _is _a difference, you know."

"I know, I know."

"Then why are you standing there so calm and collected, still taking your time!"

"Because you're reading the clock on the mantel." Cho replied serenely as her friend gave another panicky glance to the clock.

"What sort of an answer is that?" she snapped.

"It means you're reading the clock on the mantel." She repeated, sitting down on the couch and settling in.

Marietta looked at her with an expression that clearly indicated that she thought her friend had gone mad.

"The clock on the mantel stopped working three days ago. It stopped at about an hour ahead of the actual time it is right now."

"_Oh_… well you could've told me that."

"I thought I did."

"What kind of an answer is 'You're reading the clock on the mantel'? Of course I'm not going to know what you're talking about if you just stop there."

"You were too busy ranting to let me finish."

"I—you—"

"Marietta, don't hurt yourself," said Cho, putting a finger on her friend's lips to hush her. "Sit down and relax, before I force-feed you a Soothing Potion. Everything is under control. We're not late, and we'll get there on time."

"Easy for her to say…" thought Marietta. "If only I'd been able to speak to John before now… oh well, I'll just have to talk him when we get there…"

"Besides, I'm not finished getting ready," Cho said, breaking her flow of thought.

"What?"

"I still need to find something to do with my hair. _That_ I'll leave for you to do."

"Why is that the only thing you trust me to do?" she asked, partly in complaint as she was taken by the wrist and led into the bathroom and handed a brush in addition to a variety of hair accessories.

"Because it's the only thing you can do that I'll approve of," she said, smirking.

Marietta shook her head and picked up the brush. "Sit," she commanded, pulling up a stool for her to sit on; after she was seated, she began to brush the thick, dark hair.

"So, what do plan to do if you find your soul mate tonight?" she asked, almost as a joke, after a pause, continuing to brush her friend's long hair soothingly.

"I don't know. It depends on whether or not I find him," she replied, smiling.

"I certainly wonder what he'll look like," Marietta said, knowing that she'd begun to press her luck of keeping her knowledge to herself.

"There's no telling…" she said, unaware of the small note of hesitation in her friend's voice.

"Dark hair, maybe?" she continued.

"Maybe,"

"Taller than you, of course."

"Yes."

"Clear complexion."

"That's a must."

"Well, we'll just see, won't we?" Marietta said, wisely stopping there before she gave herself away.

"I—suppose we will," Cho said warily, beginning to be ever so slightly suspicious, and then giving a sharp intake of breath as her hair was suddenly yanked on, the pain taking her mind off of her suspicions.

"Ow! Marietta!"

"Sorry, sorry," she said, hoping that her little tug had saved her from any questioning and beginning to style her friend's hair.

"Is it all right if I curl your hair?" she asked.

"Go ahead. Just don't pull on it again."

"Right, sorry again about that," she said, pulling out her wand and muttering a spell. Gathering together the softly curled hair in a half-ponytail, she picked out a silver hair clip from the assortment of hair things and snapped it in place, brushing the hair out a bit more before whispering another spell to put a bit of silver glitter into the mix before standing back to admire her work.

"Not bad if I say so myself. And I do," she said, crossing her arms and letting her friend stand up to look in the mirror, gently feeling her hair.

"It's beautiful, Marietta. Thank you," Cho said gratefully, giving her friend a hug.

"Oh, it's nothing," Marietta said modestly.

"Now, it's about time to go, don't you think?" she said after another look at her watch.

"I'm ready when you are," was the reply as Marietta picked up her purse from the bathroom counter, handing Cho hers.

"Let me see… my keys are… in here," she said, rummaging in her purse until she found them. "Let's go."

Marietta followed her out into the hallway and closed the door behind her before walking alongside her to the elevator and pressing the button.

The doors opened immediately, but the elevator was far from empty.

"I'm sorry, ladies, but there's no more room. You can probably catch it on its next time around," said a man in the front apologetically.

"All right, it's no problem," said Cho, nodding politely. He breathed a sigh of relief and pressed the button to shut the doors again.

"Now what do we do?" asked Marietta.

"We'll just have to wait. Or…"

"Or what?"

"We could use the staircase."

"Cho."

"What?"

"Have—you—gone—daft? Do you honestly think you and I can walk down those stairs wearing the shoes we're wearing?"

"Well, yes, if we're careful. It's better than waiting for the next elevator to come who knows when," she insisted as her friend threw her hands up in the air in exasperation and turned away.

"I can't believe I'm saying this… fine. Let's go and use the staircase," she said reluctantly beginning to walk towards the emergency exit sign.

"Are you sure?"

"Would you just hurry it up and walk as fast as you can without hurting yourself?" she snapped.

"All right, no need to be snippy," Cho said, walking through the door her friend held open for her.

Marietta walked in after her and took a glance down the spiraling stairs before backing away from the railing and standing against the wall. Grabbing her friend's shoulder, she said, "Cho, I just thought of something."

"What?"

"Can't we just Apparate to the bottom?"

"I… suppose so… just this once." She said haltingly, not feeling in the mood to argue, to which her friend gave a joyous squeal. "Ready? 1, 2, 3…"

A few moments later, they appeared at the bottom of the staircase, landing on their feet with two loud thumps.

"I think I broke the heel to one of my shoes," complained Marietta.

Cho shot her a glare.

"But it's nothing I can't fix," she said quickly, muttering "_Reparo_,"

"At this rate, we're not going to be able to make it on time," said Cho exasperatingly, with another glance at her watch.

"Cho, I know that John said no Apparating, but, do you think…?"

"Do we have any other choice?" she replied, giving up altogether and throwing her hands up in the air.

Marietta made a triumphant noise and with another two ear-splitting cracks, they had Apparated themselves into John's flat. The room had gone silent and it seemed as though pair upon pair of eyes was focused on them, and only them, almost as though they were asking who dared to make such a bold appearance.

"We—we couldn't find a taxi," said Marietta, laughing nervously.

Someone towards the back laughed as well, and the momentary tension broke as a few more people chuckled appreciatively and everyone turned away from them, continuing their conversations. They both relaxed their tensed shoulders and Marietta began to walk away, saying, "I'll be right back. I just need to speak to John about something."

"All right," said Cho, beginning to make her way towards the coat closet after her friend had walked away. Upon finding it, she opened the door and groaned when she saw how deep it stretched. Without any further delay, she began to walk into the cramped space, occasionally being poked and prodded by an outstretched hanger, wondering why everything had to be so difficult.

Meanwhile, Marietta had found the gracious host chatting with a few of his colleagues in a distant corner.

"…So like I was saying, I had gotten these fantastic seats for the very first Quidditch game of the season that the Montrose Magpies were playing when all the tickets had been sold out, and I had planned on asking my brother to go along with me when—" he said as she approached, chopping off the end of his sentence when she tapped him on the shoulder.

"Oh! Would you look at that! You finally made it; it was about time. Ron, Hermione, I'd like you to meet my girlfriend, Marietta Edgecombe," he said, pulling her into the small circle.

"Did you say _Marietta Edgecombe_?" asked Hermione, her eyes growing wide in disbelief. "My goodness," she added weakly. "It's… been forever since the last time we saw you. John, when you told us that your girlfriend's name was Marietta… you never mentioned that your Marietta was _that_ one."

"And which one would that be?" he asked jokingly.

"The one we—" Ron began, cut short by a nudge in the ribs from Hermione.

"—went to school with," she finished, smiling. "It's nice to see you again."

"And it's nice to see you as well," she replied, grinning back, relieved to see that they seemed to be willing to bury the past. Suddenly blessed with another inspirational idea, she decided to make small talk and move from there once she had gotten the information she needed, rather than involving John in her plans.

"So, how've you been?" she asked warmly.

"Very well, thanks," Ron replied.

"That's nice to hear. I take it you two are still keeping in touch with Harry?" she said, artfully keeping herself from sounding _too_ eager to hear about him.

"Yes, very much so. In fact, he works with us in the Auror department at the Ministry, said Hermione.

"Yeah, he's here at the party. Didn't I tell you?" said John, saying the very words she wanted to hear. "I still can't believe I managed to get the famous Harry Potter to come to my little party, when I'm sure he had so many other invitations to choose from," he said lightheartedly to Ron and Hermione, chuckling softly after he spoke.

"It's not as if you handed me a list of your guests to memorize," she teased. "Listen, I'd love to stay and chat, but I've got something very important to take care of, all right?"

"That's all right, just remember to come back," he replied, winking and dropping a quick kiss on the top of her head before turning back towards his guests.

"It was nice to see the two of you again," she added, smiling.

"It was nice to see you, too," said Hermione kindly, smiling back.

Turning to walk away, she could only thank her lucky stars that neither one of them had seemed to have kept a grudge over the years for that one mistake she had made. Now, she turned her focus towards her mission and finding Cho.

"Remember, be tactful," she thought to herself, carefully squeezing in between gaps in the crowd. Spotting Cho over by the closet, looking a bit disgruntled, she began to make her way towards her friend, having every intent of keeping her close by until she had laid eyes on Harry. Then—the rest she would just leave to fate and her improvisational skills.

"Where have you been?" she asked as soon as she was within earshot.

"Fighting my way through the jungle your boyfriend dares to call his coat closet," was the petulant reply.

"Well, come with me, and let's go and mingle."

"Hold on a moment, I'd like to go to the restroom and clean up a bit. It's down this hall to the left, right?" Cho said, shouldering her purse and pointing towards the hallway to her right.

"Yeah… how did you know that?" she asked, confused as to how her friend seemed to know the apartment so well when she had only been in it once or twice.

"The ten million times you've described this flat down to the last detail might have something to do with it," she answered cheekily, shaking her head and smirking.

"Don't plan on hiding for the entire party!" Marietta called after her friend, a touch of anxiety beginning to douse her spirits. Sighing, she walked towards the large full-length windows on the side of the apartment closest to her that made up the entire wall to wait for Cho. All along the windows, different clumps of people were arranged together, some leaning on the glass, others standing in front of it and admiring the ideal view of the city. She herself faced the window to look out at the city and took to placing her hand on the glass to absent-mindedly tap her fingers. Feeling restless, she turned away from the window again to lean against it and observe guests. As her eyes slowly swept across the room and as far as she could see, she spotted a man with dark hair talking to John, Hermione, and Ron, and she froze.

Meanwhile, Cho turned the doorknob to the bathroom and gave a small push, shutting it behind her after she had entered and found herself giving a double take to the room as she fully took in the elegance and ornate furnishings and her jaw dropped slightly in surprise.

A large mirror with a gilded frame was placed carefully above the wide sink, the richly golden taps giving a sharp contrast to the simplicity of the white marble. The counter in which the basin sank into was large and wide, with an assortment of drawers and cabinets filled with all sorts of soaps, clean fleecy white towels, and every other toiletry known to civilized society. Spotless bleached tiles lined the floor, and the tub seemed to resemble a large swimming pool, not unlike the prefects' bath at Hogwarts. A comfortable-looking lounge couch on the wall next to a bathrobe hanger or two finished off the bathroom, and, feeling a bit dizzy from such opulence, she gratefully took a seat on the sofa to recuperate from her initial shock.

Marietta had always said that John was extremely wealthy, but up until that very moment, she hadn't really had a very good idea of exactly how rich he was. Standing up again, she set her purse down on the counter in front of the large look-glass, opened it, and took out her wand, making small adjustments to make herself look presentable again, including making sure the static cling her hair seemed to have acquired inside the closet was taken care of.

Taking a look in the mirror to make sure she was satisfied when she finished, she straightened her skirt before opening the door and walking back out into the mass of people. The number of people seemed to have multiplied three times over in her short absence, and yet there was still plenty of room to spare.

"I wonder if he has an equally rich cousin I could become acquainted with," she thought jokingly to herself, spotting Marietta across the room and beginning to walk towards her.

"So, anything happen while I was gone?" she asked, standing in front of her friend. She seemed to be in shock herself, her eyes being fixed in one direction and her mouth open a bit.

"No, no, nothing at all," she said distantly, continuing to stare.

"Would you mind telling me what exactly is so interesting?" Cho asked, bewildered and beginning to become a bit annoyed. She looked over in the spot where Marietta was so fixedly gaping at and, saw only people crowded together, chatting animatedly, nobody she herself knew in particular.

"It's—it's nothing," she replied, slowly tilting her head to the side as if to look past someone blocking her view.

Snapping her fingers loudly in her friend's face, Cho finally startled her into looking away.

"Oh! Cho, I—it's just—I didn't know it was you who was talking to me! I'm so sorry," Marietta said apologetically, swearing under her breath.

"It's all right, I was just wondering what you were so fascinated with," she said.

"I just—thought I saw something…" she replied vaguely. Inside, she could hardly contain her excitement; it was all just too perfect. Cho was going to be indebted to her forever…

A smile played at the corners of her lips at the thought of playing matchmaker, and she was only snatched back to reality as she noticed her friend still craning her neck to see what she had been staring at, looking curious and puzzled, a small frown on her face. Cho mustn't see Harry until the perfect time, and ruining the surprise now would be disastrous. She needed a distraction… Marietta quickly scanned the room again and found a familiar face on the exact opposite side of the room from Harry.

"Look over there!" she said quickly, pointing in the crowd towards the person.

"What? What?" said Cho.

"Isn't that Jillian Hilton?"

"Who?"

"You should remember; she was the girl who was always asking around in class for a spare bit of parchment or an extra quill she could borrow."

"'Spare Quill Jill?'" she asked, her eyes widening. "We haven't seen her since—since our graduation from Hogwarts!"

"Bless her heart, she was the sweetest person you could ever meet, and yet the most scatterbrained," said Marietta in reminiscence.

"Ah yes, those were the golden days, weren't they? Nothing to worry about except for finishing your homework and being on time for Quidditch practice. Well, of course, there was a bit more to it than that, but you know what I mean," she added, waving a hand impatiently as her friend opened her mouth to argue.

"Well? What are we waiting for? Let's go talk to her," said her friend, grabbing her by the forearm and beginning to walk towards their friend.

"Jillian?" Cho said questioningly after they had stopped walking to stand behind her.

The young woman who had been speaking so readily to the small group surrounding her, mostly comprised of men, turned to see who had addressed her, froze for a moment, and then let out a loud squeal that pierced every eardrum within a twenty-foot radius.

"CHO! I can't believe it's you! And Marietta!" she said in disbelief.

"Shh, keep it down. It's not as if we're famous," said Marietta, having more reasons than one to keep their friend from yelling Cho's name for the world to hear.

"You look fantastic!" exclaimed Cho, giving her friend a hug.

"So do you! I can't believe it's already been, what? Three years?"

"I know. We really should've kept in touch more often. So, what have you been up to?"

"Oh, nothing much," she said casually, "I'm still single, and very much alone in my little flat."

"I believe Ms. Chang here can relate to that," said Marietta, smirking.

"Can't you leave me alone for one minute without mentioning how much I need to have a man to balance out my life?" said Cho in exasperation. "Besides, it's not as if I miss that sort of attention. It's a bit nice to know that I'm completely independent and without anyone to tie me down or restrict me."

"_Right_," replied her friend sarcastically before muttering to Jillian, "She's absolutely in denial, can't you tell?"

"I am _not_!" she said indignantly, giving Marietta a small slap on the arm. "You're just stretching the truth into something it's not."

"See? What did I tell you?" she said out of the corner of her mouth.

"Would you stop it! It's not as if I can't hear you!" Cho said, looking as though she was on the brink of exploding.

"You two haven't changed a bit," said Jillian, grinning from ear to ear. "Oh, you wouldn't happen to have a spare quill on you right now, would you? I think I may be able to solve my marital status problem as soon as I scribble down my address for this one young man… and a few others," she added, giving a small grin.

"I see you haven't changed much either, besides getting over your phobia of speaking out in conversations and, I assume, dating," said Cho, grinning back as Marietta handed their friend a quill she had dug out of the depths of her handbag.

"Well, I had to grow out of some old habits over time. It's already an uneasy world to live in, but when you limit yourself further, it just makes things worse." She explained as she wrote. She handed the scrap piece of parchment to the group of men over her shoulder nonchalantly, and pretended not to take notice as they all lunged towards it. "Let's walk over there and let them fight it out, shall we?" she said, steering her two friends towards the other side of the room."

Marietta's voice caught in her throat as panic made her heart speed up to twice its normal rate as the familiar dark head of hair came closer and closer into view when she whipped around, switching positions with Jillian and pushed her and Cho back towards the fighting mob of men, but just far away enough to keep them all comfortable.

"Like to keep close to the action? Well, if you don't mind all the yelling and bloodshed, that's just fine with me," said Jillian lightheartedly.

"No, it's just—the view is much lovelier from here, and you can see the entire city," said Marietta, gesturing towards the windows opposite them.

"You're right, it _is_ a nicer view," said Cho, looking appreciatively at the glimmering lights down below.

"So, tell us what you've been up to for the past few years, Jill," said Marietta, breaking the meditative moment.

"Where would you like me to start?" she said, shrugging.

"After graduation, I suppose. It doesn't really matter exactly when after," she added hastily.

"When you put it that way, then, I guess I should probably begin a few months after we graduated," she began, sitting down on a sofa and gesturing for the two of them to do the same, which they did.

"I was always unsure of which profession to choose, as the two of you know. I went absolutely mad when they handed me all these pamphlets in our fifth year of careers that I could choose from once I graduated."

"I remember," said Cho suddenly. "You came back to the common room looking as though you'd just been told to figure out the meaning of human existence."

"And I might as well have been, because I had absolutely no clue as to where my life would go after school. So anyway, there I was a few months after graduation, still living with my parents, as embarrassing as that is, and unemployed. I still had a good deal of those brochures, mind you, but I still had absolutely no idea as to what to do. And then, one day, as I was shuffling through them for the final time, it hit me when my eye caught this one booklet on becoming an Auror. I had all the right grades for it, and I always thought that a bit of adventure now and then would do me good, and so I looked into it further. So, I've been working day in and day out at the Ministry with the women's Auror department and finally, after three years of hard work, I'm going to be able to go to a training camp."

"But I thought that Aurors-in-training usually only had to read files and all that sort of thing for about a year and a half or so," said Cho, frowning slightly.

"_Male_ ones do, but women seem to have to jump a bit higher. The ladies at work aren't that bad, but you always have to, shall we say, lower your IQ a bit to be able to blend in. I myself put on this act every day at work, and so, I get along fairly well. Hermione Granger, however, has a bit more difficulty." She said, crossing her curved legs casually.

"Is that the same Hermione Granger from Hogwarts?" Cho asked, looking interested and then also a bit resentful at the same time.

"The one in Gryffindor with brown hair, extraordinarily intelligent, and who was one of Harry Potter's best friends?"

"Yes,"

"That's the very same Hermione. She's got a lot of spunk, that girl. She nearly always refuses to join in the daily nail polish check and magazine read-aloud time. I have a feeling she's beginning to give in, though. I don't blame her… anyway, if my memory serves me correctly, she's here at the party with her boyfriend," said Jillian, beginning to look around.

Cho felt the bottom of her stomach drop to her ankles.

"Harry Potter?" she asked tentatively, dreading the answer.

"Oh, goodness, no!" replied her friend, giving a small laugh. "She's dating Ron Weasley, finally, after all these years that he's been too shy to ask her. I always thought it was obvious that those two were crazy about each other during our school years."

Her stomach returned to its original spot, but no sooner than it had been restored it began clenching together in excitement and she felt her heart begin fluttering. Hadn't Harry said so himself once that he was considering being an Auror? Was it possible that he…?

"So, Jillian," she began, voice shaking slightly. Marietta took note of this and gave a mental groan, knowing that the damage had been done. "Do you know if… Harry's here at the party?"

Marietta began gesticulating wildly, behind her friend to Jillian, mouthing, "Don't tell her! Don't tell her!"

Jillian raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow slightly in questioning as she sighted Marietta before abruptly lowering it again and saying, "I… don't know, Cho, probably not. I think I might've heard that he went to another party somewhere else. I'm not sure, though."

"Oh," she said, obviously disappointed.

"Jillian, why don't you come with me to get a drink? I see your glass is empty already," said Marietta, raising both her own eyebrows as a sort of secret signal while Cho stared hard at the floor, lost in thought. "We'll be right back, all right?"

"Sure," said Cho, nodding once and looking up at the two of them once before lowering her gaze again to the ground.

Of course he wasn't there at the party. How could she be so stupid as to assume he would be? He had probably moved away to a different country, for all she knew. There wasn't much England had to offer him anymore, not anything exceptional that she could think of, at least. Even if he did still live in the area, what made her so sure that he would be working in the Auror's department at the Ministry, or single, for that matter? He _was_ the famous Harry Potter, after all, with females in the entire wizarding world who would give up any or all of their five senses just to be able to shake his hand. Every now and then her eye would catch a tidbit of information in tabloids, but she knew better than to trust the rubbish they dared to print and call the truth.

Perhaps he had already forgotten all about her. Or even worse, if it was possible, he might already be engaged or married. She slumped down in her seat, feeling strangely upset and flustered. It was ridiculous. She hadn't even seen him for years, and here she was, feeling the same twisting sensation in the pit of her stomach just at the mention of his name. Did it mean anything? Of course not; it had all happened so long ago that it wasn't possible. But, still…

"What is it? What's the matter?" asked Jillian as soon they had reached the bar and were well out of earshot, looking concerned. "Is something wrong? I'll have another glass of white wine, please," she added to the bartender, who nodded and took her glass.

"Now, I know this may sound a bit crazy, but after loads of hints and watching Cho closely, I've come to the conclusion—that is, I believe that—what I'm trying to say is—I think she's still in love with Harry." She said, wringing her hands nervously.

"Are you sure?" her friend asked, leaning in closer to speak more softly and still be heard.

"I'm almost absolutely positive."

Jillian leaned back in her tall stool, swinging from side to side slightly in the revolving chair top and seeming to be silently contemplating what she had just been told, not even noticing when her drink had arrived.

"So, why don't you want me to tell her he's here?" she said in a low voice finally.

"I've just, and it may not even work, mind you, pieced together this plan—well, not really a plan, it's more of a vague outline, really, of what to do to get them to see each other at the right moment, and help things along from there."

"I'm all ears," said Jillian, looking more interested by the moment and starting to grin again. She gave a small start as she noticed her drink and momentarily interrupted her friend's flow of language by holding up her index finger as a sign that she would like to take a sip first. Holding the glass daintily, she held it up to her lips and took a short, but sharply taken in drink of the nearly clear liquid, soothing her parched throat, before motioning for Marietta to continue to speak.

"Well," she began, leaning in again. Catching the hint, her friend moved in as well and leaned her ear towards the words flowing easily from her mouth, carefully whispered, taking into account the possibility that Cho could come at any given moment to find them. A minute or so of this passed and the auburn-haired girl leaned back in her chair again, lifting up her wineglass thoughtfully and slowly sipping as she mused on what she had just been told.

"Not a bad plan, but it lacks a few minor details," she said finally.

"Such as…?" said Marietta, sitting back as well.

"Actual structure, definite actions. In other words, basic essential components you seem to consider small things of no real importance." Said Jillian simply, setting down her half-empty glass.

"Well, I haven't had much time to think things over, considering I only found out about Cho's ongoing crush for him yesterday," she replied defensively.

"May I make a suggestion?" she asked casually.

"By all means, please do,"

"You know of that old tradition of kissing someone at the stroke of midnight on New Year's Eve?"

"Yes."

"It may take a bit more ironing, nothing a good 'accidental push' can't do, but…" she trailed off dramatically with a small wave of her hand before smiling slyly and saying, "What do you think?"

"I think… that may just work. I mean, they don't even have to kiss, as long as she falls into his arms," Said Marietta, a smile creeping onto her face. "Now, all we have to do is keep the two of them from seeing each other and—"

"Keep who from seeing who?" asked a new voice curiously. Startled, they both nearly fell out of their seats in surprise, and the crystal glass on the counter had a very narrow escape from being knocked over and having its contents spill onto Jillian's lap as her hand swung haphazardly, as a reflex, to half-shield her face.

"Don't do that! You nearly scared us half to death!" fussed poor Marietta, whose face was rapidly becoming a darker shade of crimson by the minute.

"So sorry," said Cho with a smirk. "Next time I'll be sure to bring a trumpet along with me and announce myself with a royal fanfare."

"No, don't be silly," said Jillian, recovering quickly and grinning widely, flashing straight, white teeth. "You don't need to bother with a royal fanfare. Just blare out a regular one and we'll know you're coming."

"Oh, right, I forgot. I'm not quite related to royalty, am I?" she said, slapping her forehead in mock self-admonishment.

"It's all right. I'm sure we'll find some way to forgive you," replied Marietta, playing along.

"So, what have you two been plotting over here in those crafty, sly heads of yours?" said Cho, crossing her arms.

"Us? Plotting? Whatever do you mean?" asked Jillian innocently, purposely exaggerating her movement as she batted her eyelashes.

"Oh, no. Don't tell me. One of you brought Gilbert Thatch with you, and you've told him that I'd dance with him the entire time. Or you've found a 'perfect' someone that you're keeping a close eye on for me." She said, looking a bit apprehensive. "Well, whoever it is, I refuse to see him."

"That would, theoretically, make our jobs easier, then, wouldn't it?" muttered Jillian to Marietta out of the corner of her mouth as Cho looked around frantically for someone they might've hidden away in a nearby corner or somewhere.

"Not if she knew who the person was," she whispered back.

"Well, I said it theoretically," Jillian pointed out.

"What are you two whispering about now?" she said sharply, turning to face them.

"Cho, although your paranoia is infinitely amusing, we must confess something to you." Said Jillian, a hint of regret in her voice.

Marietta blinked blankly in disbelief. "And what is that?"

"We… haven't found anyone for you yet, Cho. We were discussing how to find someone for you," she lied easily, picking up her drink again, her hands shaking ever so slightly from anxiety.

"Are you sure?" she asked suspiciously, narrowing her eyes. "Because if you've brought Gilbert here to torture me, I swear…"

Her voice faded in silent threat.

"No worries, Cho. Your love life is in good hands." Jillian said brightly.

"Cho! My goodness, is that really you?" called another feminine voice.

"Kirana? What are you doing here?" she said, turning with an excited squeak at the sound of the familiar voice and hugging her friend quickly; her two friends behind her relaxed visibly and breathed sighs of relief.

"I was just in the neighborhood when I bumped into John yesterday, and he invited me to come tonight, so I did!" she said frankly.

"I'm so glad to see you again! I meant to write you again the other day, because I know it's been a while since my last letter, but I haven't had any time, it seems."

"It happens to the best of us," she said, shrugging. "I haven't really had any time to read letters lately. So, what's going on with you? Date any cute men recently?"

At this question, Marietta gave a groan as Cho opened her mouth determinedly and began to speak.

* * *

"—and so now, he's promised me that he'll propose to her soon," finished Harry, motioning towards his friend.

"Good for you, mate. You two deserve each other," said John heartily, clapping a red-eared Ron on the back.

"Shh, not so loud," he hissed, hastily holding a finger to his lips, and then looking starry-eyed in the direction of his girlfriend, who was chatting enthusiastically to a colleague about her proposal on eliminating prejudice and lack of rights for werewolves.

"She always looks so gorgeous when she's arguing for something she believes in, doesn't she?" said Harry in a dreamy voice, moving to rest his chin on his friend's shoulder and pretend to stare at Hermione as well.

"Yeah, especially when that one long blue vein in the middle of her forehead begins to bulge out and throb when she gets all fired up," joined in John in mock rapture, leaning his head on Ron's free shoulder to do the same.

"Mm-hmm," agreed Ron, not hearing a single word. The two of them began to stifle laughs and only managed to sound as though they were snorting derisively and uncontrollably.

"And it's even better when she's speaking so fast, she spits on the other person until they're soaking wet."

"I couldn't agree more."

"But what really takes the cake is when she has something stuck in-between her teeth while she's talking and it's directly in the middle of her mouth, where you can see it perfectly. It's—just so _attractive_, isn't it?" John managed to choke out.

"What? I'm sorry, I wasn't listening," he said, snapping out of his reverie as he heard them finally laugh out loud and cause several people to stare. They finally removed themselves from their personal head rests and straightened up, only to collapse on each other in a laughing fit again.

"Have you been drinking too much?" asked a voice sharply. They looked up quickly to see Hermione standing before them, watching them have hysterical paroxysms over their feeble jokes in deep disapproval.

"You didn't happen to hear anything we said, did you?" Harry asked, looking a little anxious. Few people had the faintest inkling of how livid Hermione could become, except, perhaps, Draco Malfoy, and he had gotten the milder version of her angry side.

"No, why?"

"Nothing," Harry replied quickly.

"You probably shouldn't have any more alcohol, just to be on the safe side." She said, frowning slightly and gently pulling the glasses out of their hands, setting them down on the table.

"Hermione!" called a voice.

She turned in the direction of the voice and held out her arms in startled joy, saying in return, "Lavender!"

When they had pulled apart from their embrace, she asked, "How are you? Is Roger with you? How is he?"

"I'm doing just fine, and yes, he's here with me. I think he went to get me a drink," Lavender said, giving a quick glance towards the bar. "Yes, there he is… I see him now. I hope he remembers that I don't like my wine without ice… Harry! Ron! You're here as well!" she gushed.

The two men gave each other eyebrow raises. She had never been so happy to see them before, and didn't seem to have good reason to begin being overly pleased to lay eyes on them once more. Then again, her strategy for clinging on to her latest man seemed to be using jealousy to keep him on his toes.

"It's, er, nice to see you too, Lav," said Harry awkwardly as she took his hand and nearly shook it off of his arm.

"Be nice. She's really not that bad," he barely heard Hermione whisper to Ron before she pushed him forward to shake Lavender's hand as well.

"Yeah, it's been… a while," he said, looking uncomfortable.

"It really has been too long. Why, it was just the other day when I went to go watch Roger at Quidditch practice and somehow we began talking about the three of you, and the wedding. Oh, and Hermione told you that all three of you are invited, right? It should be set sometime in June. A summer wedding, don't you think that's lovely?" she paused to let one of them speak or to take a breath; they couldn't really tell, but were ready to bet anything that it was the latter.

"That should be wonderful. Are you going to have the wedding outside?" asked Hermione, snatching at the chance to speak.

"No, it would probably be too hot for Roger's mother. She's got a weak heart, you know, and the heat only upsets her more." She replied, giving an overly dramatic sigh.

"If I were planning a wedding, I would probably have it in the spring, so that the flowers would be fresher and more beautiful, and the weather would be ideal for a ceremony outdoors," Hermione replied, beginning to look a little lost, as if imagining the possibilities already. Harry coughed somewhat loudly and John elbowed Ron in the ribs.

"Poor Mrs. Davies. The flowers agitate her allergies, and so we can only have a few carnations and roses here and there. And it's such a shame, because I love daisies," said Lavender, adding the last sentence in a barely audible voice, almost to herself, dropping the affected tone of speech she had been using and losing herself somewhere else.

Harry could almost hear the cogs in Hermione's head, whirring and spinning at a dizzying speed, devising a plan to fill Lavender's bridal dressing room or her bachelorette party full to bursting with bouquet after bouquet of daisies.

"Roger plays for Puddlemere United, doesn't he?" asked Ron suddenly, finally finding a topic he would be interested in conversing with.

"Yes, he does," she said with a nod, coming back from her thoughts to join them. "It'll be a good while before he's promoted to the position of Head Chaser, but at least he's a chaser all the same."

She glanced around the room absent-mindedly, Quidditch not being her main point of interest.

"Is Oliver Wood still on the team?" asked Harry interestedly.

"Last time I checked, I was," said a new voice.

"Ollie! Speak of the devil!" beamed Lavender.

The tall, muscular man winced slightly at the unbecoming nickname she had dubbed him with, but managed all the same to say cheekily, "In the flesh."

"I thought you said you were going to be late," she said reproachfully, yet looking pleased.

"Well, I am," he said, shrugging.

She flushed slightly and said in self-defense, "You said you'd be here around ten."

"A few plans got changed here and there, so, here I am!" he answered, grinning.

"If I didn't know better, I'd think that you purposely invited all our old classmates for some sort of a reunion," Harry joked to John.

"People invite people, and those people invite people, I had the space, so I thought, 'Why not?' " He replied, lifting a shoulder.

"I'm not complaining," replied Harry, moving to shake his old Quidditch captain's hand.

"So, I heard that you did me proud and became the captain of the Gryffindor team after Angelina graduated," Wood said, clapping a hand down on Harry's shoulder.

His face tinged red for a moment as he replied, "Yes," modestly.

"Of course, he wasn't you, Ollie," said Lavender sweetly.

"Lavender, are you being a kiss-ass again? That really should be made illegal," said Roger playfully, wrapping his arms around her waist and handing her a drink.

"Language," she warned, managing to look huffy and pleased at the same time.

"Potter! Weasley! Miss Granger," he said, pulling away from his fiancé to give a bow to Hermione and to shake hands with Ron and Harry.

"How are things on the Quidditch field?" Ron asked.

"They're all right. We almost lost that last game we had this past week, but Wood here saved us with his superb keeping." He raised his glass to him as a sort of salute and took a deep drink.

"It wasn't much, really, just putting strategies from practice into action." Wood answered humbly. "Speaking of practice Davies, you could improve your playing by coming to one a bit more often. This one blows off training to go see his fiancé, he does," he added to the rest of them, jerking his head towards his teammate.

"And you'd understand what it's like if you went and found yourself a life," teased Roger.

"I will when you will," he retorted.

"Careful," warned Hermione. "He's already starting to get drunk, and soon he won't be able to remember his own name, let alone match your own remarks."

"Don't worry too much about him, Hermione, Davies is known for being able to hold his own while intoxicated," he said good-naturedly, giving his teammate a slap on the back.

"Hermione's right, you know," said Lavender gently. "You shouldn't overdo yourself. Think of your mother."

"She's not here, though, is she?" he said with a wink and then adding, at the worried expression that marked her face with a small frown, "I promise I won't. Happy?"

"Now, you, Lavender, could probably be done in with two glasses of vodka, with a shot or three of firewhiskey in-between," said John, grinning.

"Talking about alcohol again? Really, John, you ought to set an example for others," said Marietta in jest, appearing to join the conversation, after repeated promises from Jillian to keep Cho away from that particular crowd while she was away.

"No, my dear, I leave that to you, remember?" he said, taking her hand and kissing it.

"Well, I suppose if you want something done right… nice of you two Quidditch fanatics to join us," she added as she noticed the two new arrivals. "And you're Lavender, correct?"

"Yes, Roger's—"

"—fiancé. I know. John's told me all about the two of you. Congratulations," finished Marietta with a wise nod.

"Thank you," she replied gratefully.

"_Marietta_?" asked Harry, evidently in shock.

"Yes, hello, Harry," she said cordially, hoping he was as forgiving as his friends.

"She's John's girlfriend," said Hermione, diving into the conversation. She almost imperceptibly raised an eyebrow at Harry, warning him to be civil.

Marietta mentally crossed her fingers, dreading his response, not having caught the message of caution sent to him.

"It's—nice to see you," he said haltingly.

"Listen, I'm sorry for—for the trouble I caused you, I really am. I didn't have any other choice," she blurted out.

"What?" he said, looking confused.

"Back at Hogwarts. I… got you into a bit of trouble with Professor Umbridge back in your fifth year," she replied, starting to blush.

"Oh, that," he said casually. "Well, let's just leave the past buried, shall we?"

"That's the spirit, Harry! Happy endings all 'round!" said John, evidently thinking the entire thing was just a good joke, still a bit drunk.

"As long as you don't leave _too_ much of the past buried," she thought, looking with worried eyes back towards the corner where Cho and Jillian sat chatting with Kirana.

"Listen, I've got to go and make sure I'm not neglecting all my other guests by spending the entire time with the lot of you, no offense meant, so I'll see you a bit later on, all right?" said John, taking a look at his watch before walking off to mingle with another group of his co-workers.

"Quite the social butterfly, isn't he, Marietta?" asked Hermione, smiling.

"Yes, he is. Sometimes it worries me, but I don't want to bother him with the little things like that," said Marietta, returning the gracious smile.

"You know, girls, if you don't mind too much, I'm feeling myself longing for one of those serious girl-only conversations." Lavender said unexpectedly before turning to Roger without waiting for a reply from either one of them and saying in a somewhat fondly condescending manner that he seemed to enjoy, "Roger, dear, I'll be in the dining room with Hermione and Marietta if you need anything."

And, leaving no room for them to refuse the invitation, if they wished, she swept them into the next room and situated them and herself into the two nearest chairs in a vacant corner away from everyone. A crystal chandelier hung from the middle of the high ceiling, the small illuminations resonating from each individual bulb casting dancing, multi-colored lights on the walls, and a large table stood directly beneath, heavily laden with food. However, Hermione seemed to be the only one really observing the room and its contents, since Marietta had already seen it countless times, and Lavender, at the moment, was too preoccupied by her own thoughts.

"Now, what would the two of you like to talk about?" asked Lavender, breaking the silence amongst the trio.

"I don't know. What would _you_ like to talk about?" said Hermione indifferently.

"Do you have anything for us to talk about?" Lavender said, turning to Marietta. "Surely you've had experience in talks like these before."

"Well, yes, but it was so long ago," began Marietta uncomfortably. Three years _was _a lengthy period of time since the last time she had had a "serious girl-only conversation." Sure, there had been plenty of times in the Ravenclaw girls' dormitory when they had chosen nights to stay up and just talk about everything and anything, but it all seemed to fade into pleasantly vague memories, and nothing more.

"Nothing? Well, I _would_ talk about my wedding plans, but I wouldn't want to bore you," said Lavender, pretending to unconsciously twist the engagement ring on her finger back and forth slightly.

"I personally don't mind hearing about it; everything sounds very interesting." Hermione replied kindly, seeing that her old classmate was simply dying to tell all.

"So much for the 'serious conversation,' " thought Marietta as she nodded her approval. She had a feeling that this was only another chance to show off, which was only further proved as the Gryffindor began to speak.

"As a matter of fact, I was just talking to Parvati the other day, and, naturally, she's going to be my maid of honor, and Ollie's going to be Roger's best man. Well, I had actually been discussing the possibility of having more than one bridesmaid, and I was thinking, Hermione, if it isn't too much trouble, that is, if you would honor me by being one," Lavender said, in the usual manner of not pausing except to breathe.

Seeing that she wasn't needed as an active part of the conversation, Marietta chose to comfortable drift away in her own thoughts, and became completely lost to everything surrounding her before she could hear Hermione's response to the request.

But Hermione did have a point… a spring wedding _would_ be lovely, and Cho would be the ideal bride, draped in white and gracefully making her way down the aisle, bouquet in her slender hands, while her train was lifted behind her by the proud maid of honor…

"Marietta."

"Hmm?" she looked up instinctively.

"I asked if you knew anyone who could attend the wedding with Harry," said Lavender, evidently repeating what she had already said once before.

"I—it depends," Marietta said uncomfortably, not sure what to do. Cho's name automatically popped into her head, but as she opened her mouth to speak, she abruptly closed it again, not sure whether or not to suggest her friend.

"Well, since Ron may be taking part in the ceremony himself, and Hermione is as well, that leaves Harry by himself." Lavender said matter-of-factly.

"I do know someone, but I'm not sure if Harry would be comfortable with her," she replied carefully.

"Oh, don't worry about anything. Harry's such a versatile person, he'll get along with just about anyone smoothly," assured Hermione.

"Then I'm sure I could work something out for the two of them," said Marietta, grinning widely.

* * *

"So, she's still 'in love' with him?" asked Kirana.

"I'm being dead serious, Ana. Marietta found _proof_, remember?"

"Right; she found a newspaper clipping. What's that supposed to mean? It could mean anything. Who knows? Probably every other woman in the wizarding world has a picture of the man. For goodness' sake, it's Harry Potter we're talking about!" she exclaimed, keeping a close watch on their friend, who had gone to refill their drinks.

"It's possible. And it all makes sense. You weren't there earlier when she asked me if he was here at the party. There was just this—this look in her eyes. Not only that, but she hasn't seen anyone after Michael Corner, not seriously, anyway, she lives by herself, she never speaks to anyone about her love life unless she's forced to… what else do you think it means?"

"Maybe she's just a very solitary sort of person. After all the boys at Hogwarts flocking around her like heaven knows what, she probably needs some alone time."

"Look," Jillian said, her tone growing ever more serious, "we all care about her a lot, correct?"

Kirana nodded in agreement, still watching Cho at the bar.

"I'm just saying that it's very likely that she still has feelings for him and that it might be a chance for her to be happy. That's why I'm asking you to help us with our little plot. Please? Another person to help could make all the difference."

She paused to study the facial expression on her friend and held her breath until she finally said, "All right. I'm in. What do I have to do?"

"Okay, what we need you to do—Cho! Back so soon?" Jillian said, quickly cutting off her instructions.

"It took the bartender to find another bottle of that champagne you wanted, Ana, but he found some eventually," she said, distributing the glasses. "So, have the two of you had a good conversation while I was gone?"

"Yes, of course," said Kirana, tucking a stray tendril of golden hair behind her ear.

"Would you care to enlighten me, so that I can join?" Cho asked, sitting down on the couch.

"Well, we were…discussing some of the latest… Quidditch scores for… Puddlemere United," replied Jillian, making it evident that she had been thinking of what to say as she went along.

"Right," said Cho, slightly raising an eyebrow.

"Did you hear about those spectacular saves Oliver Wood made last week? Just amazing," Kirana said, stepping in to the rescue and thanking her lucky stars that she had gone to see the game. "I even heard,"—she lowered her voice—"that he might be here at the party. Cho, have you ever given any thought to the idea that he might be a good dating option?"

It was Jillian's turn to raise not one, but both eyebrows. She turned to Cho to see her reaction and was surprised to see her friend not indifferent or annoyed at the suggestion, but _thoughtful_.

"You know… I actually don't think that's such a bad idea, seeing as he's single," she said, stealing a sly glance at them and perplexed to see Jillian stiffen and turn to her friend.

"Kirana, may I speak to you privately?" asked Jillian, looking genuinely alarmed, although she was trying to conceal her panic.

"Sure," was the reply, and so they left Cho sitting on the couch, seeming to be in deep thought again.

"What the _hell_ are you doing?" she asked through gritted teeth as soon as they were out of earshot.

"I'm trying to keep her suspicions low."

"Well, I think you might be doing all too well. You're going to give me a heart attack."

"Don't worry. I've got it all under control."

"You call sparking her interest in Oliver Wood keeping things under control!"

"Oliver Wood was in Gryffindor, correct?"

"Yes, but I don't see how that helps us any."

"Harry was a Gryffindor. They were _both_ on the Quidditch team."

"So?"

"Haven't you given a single thought to the fact that they might actually be talking and hanging out together here at the party?"

"The thought may have crossed my mind, yes."

"I'm thinking that we find Oliver and steer Cho in that direction. Once we get close enough, you find something or someone to distract him while I—"

"—Push her into Harry!" finished Jillian. "That's brilliant! I had originally planned for you to distract Harry while I found someone to distract Cho before pushing them into each other at the right moment, so now I don't have to go hunting down anyone."

"Exactly. We'd have to tell him about the whole thing, though, won't we?"

"I suppose so. Marietta should probably know about everything and give it her approval before we can do anything."

"You go back and talk to Cho, and I'll talk to Marietta," volunteered Kirana.

"Don't rush yourself too much; we've still got at least a good two or three hours until midnight."

"All right, I won't."

"Good luck," said Jillian, giving her friend a pat on the back.

"Thanks, I might need it," she replied.

And with that, she walked towards the large circle of people off in the distance while her friend headed back towards the small couch.

"What was all that about?" Cho asked, looking as though she was at a loss for words.

"It was nothing. Kirana just remembered that she had to tell Marietta something, and it's all just very complicated," she replied, dismissing the matter with a shake of her head. "So, what, exactly, is it that you do for a living?"

"Not very much, just a few things here and there. It's mostly just a few columns in the Daily Prophet now and then. I don't have a full contract yet, but I'm hoping that I'll get one soon after I finish this piece for the sports section," said Cho, crossing her legs.

"So, do you need to know more about that match they had last week? I'm sure I can find someone who can help you," suggested Jillian, motioning towards her fan club.

"I actually knew all about that one game Ana was talking about, seeing as I was there last week, to watch and cover the story. The only reason why I'd be interested in seeing Oliver at this point would be to interview him about the team," she replied with a laugh.

"Why did you act so interested when she brought up dating him, then?"

She shrugged. "I dunno. It must come from my never dying love of teasing my friends."

"You seemed serious to me."

"Ah, well, maybe I should pursue an acting career instead of one in journalism, hmm?"

"Perhaps…" she replied, trailing off, but relieved all the same.

"At any point, I've had a one-on-one meeting with just about every single member of the team except for him, but I wouldn't want to bother him just now about my article."

"Oh, why not? I'm sure he'd love to answer your questions."

"We'll see. Maybe I can just write him a letter; my mother's lent me Aphrodite for a while, so I have my own owl to deliver all my post."

"That must be nice," Jillian commented, picking up her glass from the table and taking a drink.

"Yes… what did Ana have to tell Marietta that's taking so long?"

"I dunno, but I think it was something about needing to know where the restroom is. I certainly didn't know, so I sent her Marietta's way." Jillian replied, her inconsistency in her explanations escaping her notice.

"Well, she could've just asked me. I know where one is," said Cho, frowning slightly. "Directions to the bathroom aren't _that_ complicated, are they?" she thought to herself.

"It's all right; what's done is done. She should be back soon, at any rate," replied Jillian, adding in her own thoughts, "I hope."

* * *

"Marietta! Can I talk to you about something? So sorry to interrupt, but it's really very important. I'll bring her right back," said Kirana, seizing her friend by the forearm and almost literally dragging her away from the crowd, away from the curious eyes and ears eager to know what they were up to.

"What? What is it? Did Cho find out?" she asked, looking anxious.

"No, but Jill and I came up with the perfect plan, if you'll only listen."

"I'm all ears," replied Marietta.

Kirana hastily whispered the entire plan into her friend's ear, giving frequent pauses in her enlightenment as a precaution while people continually walked past her, occasionally stopping.

"So?" she asked when she had finished.

"It's perfect. Should I grab Wood now and tell him?"

"That might be best."

A flash of time presented both Marietta and him, the latter looking confused and a bit bedraggled, most likely from a hasty snatching, but also interested.

"Well, ladies, what can I do for you?" he asked with a wide grin.

"You remember Cho Chang from school, don't you? She was Seeker for the Ravenclaw team," said Marietta.

"Yes, I remember. She was an excellent player, and a tough competitor," Wood replied with a nod.

"I'm not sure if you heard, but in her sixth year, Harry's fifth, the two of them dated for a short period of time," supplied Kirana.

"I might've heard it somewhere, yeah," he said thoughtfully.

"Now, this might sound a bit crazy and far-fetched, but we think—she's in love with him. Still," Marietta added.

"Is she here?"

"Yes, over there," said Marietta, pointing towards the sofa.

"Would you like me to tell her that Harry's here?" he teased, raising his hands to either side of his mouth as if he were preparing to call her.

"No!" hissed Kirana and Marietta in unison, both clapping a hand over his mouth.

"I was just joking!" he said quickly, his voice muffled.

"Are you sure?" asked Kirana, holding on all the tighter as he tried to pry their fingers off one by one from his mouth; however, as soon as he succeeded in removing one and moved to the next, the loosened one clamped down once again.

"I promise," he said as well as he could, finally giving up and letting his hands fall by his sides.

"All right," said Marietta, removing her fingers from his mouth as Kirana did the same. "Now, what we need you to do is this…"

She motioned for him to lean in before beginning to whisper in the same frantic way that Kirana had, with many pauses and stops thrown in, while Kirana stood a little ways apart from them to stand guard.

"Can you do this for us?" she asked nervously when she had finished.

"Of course. Don't worry," he replied with another grin.

"Good." Kirana said, relaxing and taking a glance at the clock. "We've got another hour and a half, so just keep an eye on the clock and we'll make our first move in say, thirty minutes?"

"Thirty minutes sounds perfect to me. Just be sure to draw out the conversation as long as you can," replied Marietta, turning to Wood.

"Can do," he said. "I'll be talking to John and that group if you need me," he added as he walked away.

"Go check in with Jill and get any sort of information update you might need, and I'll meet you at the bar when you finish," instructed Marietta, turning to her friend.

"How will you know when I finish?"

"I'm just going to head over there now and wait for you."

"What if John asks about you?" asked Kirana.

"I've already told Oliver to cover for me, just in case. Now, go! Hurry!" she said hastily, shooing her friend back towards the couch across the room.

Running her hands distractedly through her hair, Kirana walked briskly towards the sofa, finding herself breezing in and out of countless conversations that she normally would've been interested in participating in, had she not a mission to accomplish.

"Ana!" exclaimed Cho pleasantly when she had finally reached them and sat down. "Did you find the loo all right?"

"What?" she asked, bewildered.

"You know. You went to ask Marietta where a bathroom was. _Remember_?" asked Jillian, pointedly putting emphasis on her last word.

"Oh, right! Yeah, I found it all right. It was, um, nice."

"I didn't know you could make a restroom so luxurious, did you?" said Cho.

"Not—not really," replied Kirana. "In fact, I don't think Jillian's seen it, have you, Jill?"

"No, but I don't have to go—"

"Wonderful! I'll go show it to you now!" she interrupted, standing up and seeming to be guiding her friend towards the hallway.

"Everyone's gone mad," thought Cho in amazement. "Here one second, gone to talk about something the next…"

She leaned back into the sofa cushions and stared out the large windows, wondering to herself about what her friends might be plotting. Seeming to have been waiting for this cue, Kirana immediately made a turn and began pushing her friend towards the bar instead, thanking her lucky stars that Cho had turned her head at that moment, since she had no idea where the restroom was.

"When I asked you to check in with Jillian, I didn't say you had to actually bring her here," said Marietta, arching an eyebrow.

"I know… it's just that the way everything worked out, she ended up here," replied Kirana, shrugging.

"Oh, well. So, Jill, anything we need to know?"

"Listen; Cho does writing every now and then for the Daily Prophet."

"I know that," said Marietta impatiently.

"Ah, but what you may not know is that her latest work is an article covering last week's game. She's interviewed just about every person—except for Oliver." Jillian said, seeming to be savoring the moment.

"This is almost too good to be true," muttered Marietta, indescribable excitement sparkling in her eyes.

"All we need to do is tell Oliver about it and set everything up," said Kirana.

"Right. Since I'm probably going his way anyway, I'll tell him about it, and you two will go back and keep Cho occupied," Marietta ordered, sounding businesslike again.

"You've kept your distance from her long enough, don't you think? It would seem awfully suspicious if you didn't go and talk to her for a while. Let me go and tell Oliver, and then I'll join the three of you," offered Kirana.

"All right. At this rate, we should probably move the time we put our plan into action later; after all, how many questions can Cho possibly ask him? Plus, being the sort of person she is, I don't think she'll want to press him too much about anything, since it's New Year's and everything. Tell him to wait for our signal before he does anything," said Marietta, standing up and brushing herself off.

"What should the signal be?" asked Jillian.

"Hmm… tell him that I'll go stand and talk with that crowd a little bit before I want him to do anything, and I'll poke him in the arm when the time is right."

"Got it," said Kirana before walking off to deliver the message.

"I would appreciate it if, for once, I wasn't left deserted somewhere with nothing to do and no one to talk to. It's almost as though you're having private conversations without—or even better—about me," said a voice dryly behind them, and the two friends still standing by the bar felt expressions mixed with panic and guilt, not to mention, surprise, creep onto their faces.

"Sorry, Cho. I got caught up with the conversation between John and his friends." Marietta replied sheepishly.

"I don't see him sitting beside you," retorted Cho cheekily, sliding into the vacant seat beside her friend.

"This had definitely be worth all this trouble," thought Marietta, glancing at her watch.

* * *

"You know what to do, right?" asked Kirana, beginning to lose her composure as she took another glance at her watch and she saw Marietta approaching them with Cho following close behind.

"Don't worry; I've got it all under control," replied Wood, giving her the thumbs-up.

"Cho, you know Oliver Wood from Hogwarts, and, of course, he remembers you. We'll just leave the two of you to talk for a while," said Marietta, giving a quick introduction before disappearing as fast as she had appeared, taking Kirana with her.

"Would you like to sit down?" asked Cho uncertainly, motioning to the latest set of chairs clustered around a table.

"If you'd prefer it that way," he replied. She smiled at his gallantry and was set more at ease as she sat down in the chair he pulled out for her before he lifted up another seat and sat down directly beside her.

"I'd like to thank you right now for taking the time to talk to me; I really appreciate it," she started earnestly. "This is your time to relax, and I just hate to be bothering you like this."

"It's nothing. I'm glad to be able to do you the favor," he said, grinning. Cho was immediately glad that she was sitting down, because her knees had gone weak all of a sudden…

"Now, I know all about your crazed Quidditch obsession, if you don't mind me referring to your love of the sport as that, but I don't know what really inspired you to play," she said in a professional tone, pulling out a quill and note pad.

"Well," he replied, making his voice playfully solemn, "I suppose it all started with that first Bludger I took to the head. Ah, yes. The hospital wing at Hogwarts seemed such a magical place, if you'll excuse the ironic cliché; I just knew that I had to keep playing."

Cho broke her sober stance to allow herself to smile and laugh a bit at Wood's slightly ridiculous joke and say, "Which should I say inspired you more, the injury or the hospital wing?"

"No, neither," he replied with a chuckle, obviously pleased with the way she played off of his words. "It had to be the first time I ever rode a broom," he began, genuinely serious.

She nodded and said, "Yes, that's about what did it for me."

"It was the most thrilling experience I'd ever had in my entire life, which, I know isn't really saying very much, as I was only about seven at the time. Just the feel of the wind in my face, and _flying_, away from the ground was all I needed to become obsessed. It was like—"

"Absolute freedom," she finished, deciphering the expression on his face.

"Exactly," he said, looking amazed that anyone else could feel the same way, clearly never having spoken with another person who shared his same interests and feelings.

"I remember the first time I got onto a broom," said Cho, smiling mischievously and enjoying the intent look on his face that conveyed to her that he was listening. "I was five years old, and my mother had just finished giving me the most horrible scolding I'd ever gotten for accidentally burning this letter she had been writing. I was so angry I just marched straight upstairs to my parents' bedroom, took my father's broom, packed a little bag, and just jumped out of my bedroom window on the broom."

"At five years old? How did you ever maneuver the broom?"

"Well, naturally, it was difficult at first, but then, once I had gotten the hang of it, I knew that I wanted to keep flying. So, I stayed out for about three hours, before my stomach told me to go back home, where, after my mum relieved her worries, I got a lecture on how I shouldn't stray away from home without her or my dad with me."

"My parents were proud of me for flying so well, but they didn't quite approve of me going off by myself either. They were always trying to force me to play with other children that lived near us, saying that I needed the society," said Wood, beginning to stray from the original subject.

"Honestly, I know that they always mean well, but you can't compel someone to make friends. My parents would probably try that same sort of thing now, if I let them, but… we're losing track of the interview," Cho said, abruptly switching back to their original course.

"Oh. Right," replied Wood, looking somewhat disappointed.

She noted his downcast expression and added quietly, "After this interview, I don't suppose you'd be interested in just talking, would you?"

"I'd like that," he said, grinning again.

* * *

"Marietta, it's time." Kirana muttered, sneaking another glance at her watch.

"All right," she said in a low voice. Exhaling deeply and finishing off her glass of wine, she stood up, already beginning to tremble slightly from the overwhelming knowledge that her friend's happiness depended upon the efficiency of others to carry out the plan. She visibly turned a shade paler as she took a look at the clock mounted on the wall above the back counter of the bar before firming her resolve and turning to Kirana.

"Keep a close eye on Harry," she warned. "I know that even though the two of you have never really been properly acquainted or held a conversation together, you'll manage."

"Are you sure?" asked her friend, whose nerves were beginning to feed off of Marietta's tension.

"Positive. Besides, Jill will be with you the entire time, and she's an expert at keeping a conversation going now."

"Really? She was never like that at school—"

"Yes, I know she wasn't, but I'm relatively sure she is now. She's already been over there at that table close to him and his group for about half an hour now, waiting for me to let her know when to approach him. Go over there, tell her to go ahead and begin talking to him, and you'll know when the time is right. Remember, Ana, lead him out _as soon as you hear the music_. Oliver already knows what to do. Let me tell John about the music we'll need and I'll let you take over from there. Unless you'd like Jillian to ask him, that is."

"I don't have a problem with it, but since she's more the flirty type anyway, I'll tell her that I volunteered her to take my place," replied Kirana, turning to leave.

"Good luck," Marietta called after her before beginning to push her way through the crowd to John.

* * *

"So, do you find it the least bit bothersome that you have to spend so much time committed to the team, or is it no real problem to you?" inquired Cho, leaning back in her chair.

"I don't really find it a problem to be so dedicated to playing and going to every practice, since I find it more of a privilege, rather than just my job," said Wood, placing his arms on the tabletop and crossing them.

"It's nice to see such enthusiasm in an athlete such as yourself, Oliver. Most Quidditch players either do it for the money, the glory, or the girls. But you, I can see that you're truly devoted to your work, and I can appreciate it," she praised, putting her heart into her words.

"Thank you, Cho," he murmured gratefully, beginning to turn slightly pink.

"Now, let's get back to the serious issues that matter just _so_ much to the public. Do you have a girlfriend?" she asked dramatically, hoping to get a laugh out of him.

And she wasn't disappointed as he chuckled slightly and said, "No, I'm afraid I don't have time for one."

The two of them were taken aback as slow, serenading music struck up from somewhere and became magically amplified to sound throughout the entire flat. Waiting for a few seconds to pass, Wood stood up reluctantly and offered Cho a hand saying, "Could you possibly favor me with a dance? I'll finish the interview after a song or two," he added as she opened her mouth to protest.

She seemed to be contemplating it for a moment or two before she stood up, placed her hand in his, and smiled as her only reply.

* * *

"Move! Make room for people to dance!" hissed Marietta, haphazardly pulling and shoving guests out of the way. 

"Come off it, woman," complained one man, "There's no one attempting to dance,"

"Yeah? Well, I don't suppose you see those two over there, do you?" she shot back, pointing towards Cho and Wood before pulling him off to the side. Soon enough, a large rectangle of smooth, finely polished wood floor appeared and, following Cho and Wood's lead, couples began to fill it up again, slowly revolving on the spot.

Wood, taking Cho by the hand, walked out to the heart of the dance floor and stopped there, placing both his hands on her waist while she rested her own arms securely around his neck.

"You can move in a bit closer you know, I'm not going to bite you," she said, smirking as he blushed faintly and stepped in towards her, leaning his head on top of hers.

She took a deep breath, hardly believing that she was dancing so intimately with someone who had been one of her largest competitors in Quidditch during school. The memory of his fury at her recovery from an injury in her fourth year caused her to sneak a smile that he couldn't see as the lights dimmed. A light smell invaded her senses as she inhaled, and she supposed that Wood had become fond of expensive colognes, now that he could afford them.

She needed to move on, she thought drowsily as she slowly closed her eyes and let the rhythm of the music move her. Everyone was saying so: her mother, Marietta, all her friends.

"But it's your life, not theirs," replied a stubborn little voice from somewhere in the depths of her mind. "Why should you conform to their commands if it's not what _you_ want?"

And then, they appeared in her mind: emerald green eyes, looking wistful, a pair of eyes that could only belong to one person. Startled into reality, she opened her own eyes with the sudden realization that, although it was nice, dancing with Wood felt just simply, blatantly _wrong_. Empty. There was nothing really there.

One more dance. That was all she had promised him, and she intended on keeping her promise. But then—no more. Maybe she'd go home, and begin writing her article now that she had interviewed Wood. Surely she'd asked enough questions to be able to put together her piece… No, the unpleasant feeling of her discovery still lingered behind, hovering over her every thought and making every moment increasingly difficult.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, stepping back. "I—I feel a bit strange."

"It must be the light. I'm starting to feel a bit light-headed myself," he replied, nodding and glancing in a would-be casual manner over her shoulder and then at his watch.

"Almost time," he thought with a tinge of regret. "If I can hold out for just a little bit more…"

* * *

"Harry! There are two lovely ladies here that I want you to meet," called John, motioning for his friend to come.

"Hold this for me," he instructed Hermione, handing her his glass of water.

"Hey, Potter, this is Kirana,"—he waved in her general direction—"and this is Jillian,"

"It's nice to finally be properly introduced to the famous Harry Potter," said Jillian, smiling her bright smile and flashing her straight, white teeth.

"She could give Gilderoy Lockhart a run for his money at that Witch Weekly award," he thought automatically as he returned the smile and grasped her hand.

"Don't mind Jill, she can be an insufferable suck-up at times," chimed in Kirana, smirking and pretending to shrink back with fear as Jillian slapped her on the arm playfully.

"Ah, so you're American?" Harry asked, taking immediate notice of the lack of a British accent in her voice.

"And darn right proud of it," she replied, smiling slightly.

"You know, I actually might be stopping in the States for a month or two." He said, putting his hands in his pockets nonchalantly.

"Really?" said Kirana, sounding genuinely interested.

"Yeah, it's part of the Auror training program I'm in. I'm actually in the pre-training phase right now, just working at the Ministry, reading through files, that sort of thing. I believe you, Jillian, are in the women's Auror department, aren't you?"

"Yes. I also work with Hermione. Hermione Granger," she added unnecessarily.

"You don't say," said Harry, beginning to look a bit restless.

Feeling that they were losing his interest, Kirana nudged John who, in turn, pointed his wand towards the ceiling and muttered, "_Sonorus_,"

"I don't suppose you'd like to dance, would you?" asked Kirana, looking a bit shy as the music began playing.

"How can I refuse when a beautiful lady offers?" he replied, looking serious while his eyes twinkled playfully as he bowed.

As he led her out onto the dance floor, he never noticed the thumbs-up she gave behind her back.

* * *

"You dance well."

Even to her own ears it sounded panicked and strange.

"I wouldn't be able to be so graceful without a partner that is so," he replied smoothly, taking careful note of Kirana's tone of voice.

"Mm," she replied, looking around for Cho. Sighting her, she began to slowly steer him towards her, keeping a careful eye on the grandfather clock near the entrance to the dining room.

"C'mon Oliver, look up," she silently prayed. He did, and she gave a curt nod, jerking her head towards the clock. He looked down at his own watch and winked at her over Cho's shoulder.

11:45.

About fifteen more minutes until John would begin the countdown to midnight…

"So, what kind of files do you have to keep track of? Jill can't tell me everything there is to know about proper Auror training, being in the notorious women's Auror department,"

"It's a lot to do with Dark Arts related sort things. Murders, kidnappings… it's mostly just suspicious activities or noises that are reported to the Ministry. We hardly have anything to do with major crimes most of the time."

"What's the hugest case you've had to deal with?"

"Well, we don't even get to share in the actual investigation until after a bit more training, so it's mostly just filing papers now, but the most gruesome file we've had so far…"

"Yes?"

"Is one of the more classified ones that I can't talk to you about, under pain of death. My apologies," he added, smiling.

"Oh. That's all right," she replied, pretending to sound disappointed. "So, when do you start your official training?"

"In about another ten months, so I'll be around here for a long while yet."

"What I'd like to know is, why and where are you stopping in the States, if you are?"

"That's not as easy to answer, I'm afraid," he said, frowning. "I don't know much else except that we might go there for a while, and we might not. The Ministry claims to like keeping these things sort of secret, but I think they might just be saying that to cover up the fact that they're scrambling to put together everything."

"You shouldn't say that unless you're absolutely sure about your facts," said Kirana, taking even herself by surprise at this new stroke of boldness.

"Well, think about it," he began, looking reflective. "They always change the travel course of each individual group program, and then they're also trying to train a certain group at the same time. Not only that, but then you have a few Aurors-in-training complaining about reading case after case after case and then some of them having to act as office assistants to certain Aurors, brewing them coffee, etc. for an entire year. So, they have to say _something_ to keep those specific people to keep their mouths shut."

"You included?" she interrupted, with a mischievous grin.

"Maybe, maybe not. That's not really for you to know," he replied returning the smile with a mysterious look on his face.

"Oh no, wait, don't tell me. If you told me, you'd have to kill me, right?" Kirana said sarcastically, beginning to smirk.

"Why, of course not! Only if you told someone," he exclaimed jokingly.

"What if I promised not to tell a single soul?"

"Ah, that's the thing with women. You just can't take the risk."

"Your non-biased way of thinking is very flattering Mr. Potter," she replied sardonically, rolling her eyes before sneaking a glance at her watch.

11:57.

"Have I told you about the time that Jill and I went out for a night on the town?" she began suddenly, abruptly looking back at him.

"No, you haven't," Harry said, sounding slightly bored now that he was done teasing her.

"Well, first we went to a nightclub and danced our feet off, then we went to the nearest bar in the place and got the _brilliant_ idea to get drunk. Then, about two hours later, we were insanely inebriated and still attempting to dance. The next thing I knew, I was back in my own apartment, it was morning, and I had a headache the size of Texas." She spouted out quickly, due to nerves. "It's not as interesting as your program, of course, but I thought it was a bit amusing, seeing as neither one of us has had any trouble absorbing alcohol into our systems without getting drunk since. It'd probably take about a gallon to get us as tipsy as we were then. Even my doctor doesn't understand it…"

"No, it's fascinating, it really is," said Harry earnestly, still trying to absorb the blurb of information just thrown at him.

"Attention, ladies and gentlemen," boomed John's voice, replacing the music. "Please join me in the countdown to the New Year. Ten,"

Kirana pulled Harry closer towards Cho and Wood saying, "Let's move more towards the middle, so that we'll have more room to continue dancing when the music starts up again."

"Nine," chanted the crowd.

"Cho, I want to thank you for the good time I've had tonight," said Wood, catching one of her hands in his own and pulling her back as she was about to walk away.

"Oh, the pleasure was mine, Oliver," she replied, smiling warmly.

"Five,"

Marietta wrenched her way through the swarming mass of people towards Cho and Wood.

"Four,"

She was getting closer, closer, she could smell Kirana's perfume and see a head full of untidy jet black hair…

"Three,"

"Faster, Marietta, faster!" she thought, panicking.

"Two,"

Cho was directly in front of her, still managing to communicate with Wood although everyone was yelling at the tops of their voices.

"ONE! HAPPY NEW YEAR!"

Her hands moved instictively now, and Marietta pushed her friend's back, causing her to pitch forward; Wood had already moved aside, but then—she threw out her hands and firmly grasped his strong, muscled arms, keeping herself from falling. Kirana had evidently given Harry a small push too, but he had managed to keep his balance, and he was still facing the other direction, looking as though he was about to walk away to find someone else, evidently through with his conversation and ready to go elsewhere.

Chest heaving, Cho managed to pull herself up slightly, Wood asking in a concerned tone, "Are you all right?"

But she never heard him say that, for, as she looked up, her dark brown eyes caught a pair of deep green ones, and she froze, the entire world around her and Harry becoming absolutely insignificant.

* * *

A/N: In the immortal words of Mushu the dragon, (ahem) "I LIVE!" MWAHAHAHAHAHA! Attack of the killer cliffhanger! (more evil laughter) Anyway, the chapter's finally finished! Yay! I should get my hero cookie now, right? Wow, almost what, _six months_ since I last updated. Thank you all for not killing me! Although I'm sure you had it on your minds… patience and hard work finally paid off. Or, at least, it will, once your reviews come in. And they're going to come _pouring_ in, right? Oh well, even if I don't, I myself feel like I've really accomplished something, and that in itself is special to me. 31 pages! Wow. This chapter can be its own little book, eh? Of course, I would never have gotten the inspiration to write this without all you wonderful reviewers, always encouraging me and keeping me on track. Thank you so much for all your support, and know that I'm eternally grateful to you for your kind words. Now, for the excuses! (there's a list for _this_…)

1. (and the largest reason too) I was in my high school's spring musical, FAME. It was, as Ron would say, "Bloody brilliant" (in my opinion, but I just _might_ be biased since I was in it) and I wish you all could've seen it. I don't regret being a part of it for one minute, but it did take up a lot of my time. We had rehearsal nearly every day of the week (including Saturday mornings and late nights/afternoons after school!) and they each lasted at least two hours. When I wasn't at school for the play or for, you know, SCHOOL, I was at home either sleeping, eating, doing my homework, studying, practicing piano, or writing away like crazy on this story. Honest! But since sleep is, after all, essential to me, I had to stop writing sometime to go to bed.

2. Writer's block. It was HUGE. I'd literally sit for hours at a time, trying to think of what to type. This was pretty bad, but I think I've probably had worse. I shudder to think of the bout I might have when I start on the next chapter for my other fic, **Red Roses**.

3. Sleep depravation. Also huge. If there are any mistakes in this chapter, they're all due to lack of sleep, since I stayed up late typing them.

4. Not always having computer access. So there.

5. I'm currently on vacation, so that sort of ties in to the above, not to mention all the shopping, spending all that **lovely** quality time with family… it's not always that bad, but they always make me feel like I'm obligated to, saying that I'm leaving for college in a few years…

6. Nitpicking. I have spent so much time just reading through and tweaking, that it's just amazing.

Yep, I think that's about it… and if this chapter wasn't up to my usual standard, well, take another look at the list above and then consider all the personal pressure I put on myself to satisfy you guys. I tried, I really did, and I'm done with this chapter, because I honestly think this is the best I can do with it! On another note, who saw the new HP movie? I thought it was pretty good overall, but the way everything moved so quickly made the plot seem kinda thin, even though it really wasn't. Glitterfairyxoxo got the full force of my ranting on that subject, but if anyone else would like to discuss, feel free to email me at anytime. Also, if you'd like me to reply your review, give me your email in your review or drop me a line. If not, and you'd like me to just email you to tell you when I update (which can also be done automatically by just check it out on your personal menu page after you've logged in), I'd also appreciate you sending me your email for that reason. I won't send you junk mail or stalk you. Promise. Well, now that I'm done with my mad, almost never-ending talk, REVIEW! Please?

Unicorn13


	9. A Sleepless Night

** Chapter 9**

Green eyes, staring back at her and blinking rapidly in surprise. A million emotions coursed through her body in a matter of moments: regret, exhilaration, pain, longing, shock, love... and all of a sudden she was sixteen again, and the two of them were standing under the mistletoe, standing close together after their first kiss, sending shivers down each other's spines just by letting their breaths mingle. Hormones, she thought almost drunkenly. That's all there was to it.

"Harry," she breathed, hardly daring to believe it.

"Cho?" he asked, hesitating before drawing back a little.

Several more long moments passed before Cho finally realized that she was still holding onto a worried-looking Wood, who had been talking without her being aware of it, and not seeming to take any notice of Harry.

"... I really don't know what happened. It looks as though someone was running and then they just plowed straight into you. That could've been a nasty fall," he explained, pulling her upright.

She looked away from Wood to see Harry with an expression of slight discomfort and awkwardness as he took a small step back, still gazing at her in amazement, and she felt it: the lightly vague but strong instinct to _run_. Harry opened his mouth as if to say something, but then abruptly closed it again, as if to change his mind, and that was enough, as if to seal the deal, a slap on the face, a lash at the heart. She wrenched herself out of Wood's grasp and followed her instinct.

* * *

"Cho."

"Sod off, Marietta," croaked a voice from somewhere within.

"Well!" she huffed indignantly, placing her hands on her hips. "How do you like that? All that planning and not even a thank you... Cho Chang, I demand that you open this door, NOW!"

Marietta began to bang on the apartment door more persistently when she received no answer in return.

"OPEN THE DOOR! YOU'D BETTER OPEN THIS DOOR, CHO, OR I'LL LOOK UP HARRY'S ADDRESS AND GIVE HIM YOURS!" she shrieked shrilly, continuing her quest to pound down the door.

She heard numerous locks and charms being removed before finally the doorknob wriggled and the door opened with a faint creak, revealing the dimly lit living room and a bleary-eyed Cho who ushered her in and snapped the door closed behind them both.

"Sit," she snapped hoarsely.

A bit frightened by her friend's wild and disheveled appearance, Marietta obeyed, sinking into the nearest armchair.

Cho had changed out of her black dress into a pair of black cotton shorts and a moderately tight yellow T-shirt, her hair taken out of its clip and looking slightly tousled, as though she had been running her hands through it without cease. She stood in front of her friend, fists clenched and jaw set determinedly, a dangerous flash in her eyes.

"Do you have any idea how upset I am right now? Did you even stop to _think_ about how confused and out-of-sorts I would be?" she whispered in a deadly hiss.

"N—no," squeaked Marietta, shifting farther back into the cushions of the chair as her friend leaned closer.

"That," she said quietly, "had to be one of the most humiliating and hurtful things I've ever experienced in my life. It's been three years, Marietta. _Three years._ How could there be the slightest chance that he still even remotely _likes_ me?"

"There's always a chance, a long as you believe in it," her friend replied softly.

Cho paused and straightened slightly, seeming to absorb this; somewhere above them, a shower turned on and water could be heard swirling, racing down the water pipes to the sewers. Then, with a small sigh, she stood up and walked towards the kitchen, motioning for her friend to follow her.

"Would you like something to drink?" she asked.

"Um, well, I suppose I could use some tea," stammered Marietta. As Cho went about silently, taking the teapot out of a cupboard with a wave of her wand and warming water, Marietta couldn't help but think that if they were still at Hogwarts, Cho would be crying as if her heart would break by this point. If she had met the proud, strong-minded woman in front of her during the old school days, she would've undoubtedly laughed out loud if someone had informed her that she was her best friend. And she nervously thought that she'd prefer Cho wailing and sobbing on her shoulder instead of the dead silence.

* * *

"I'm sorry, Marietta, I suppose I should've trusted you more in school, and even now. It's just—I didn't want any more of the gossip, you know?" said Cho apologetically, running her fingers up and down her mug of tea.

"I understand," Marietta acknowledged, nodding. "I suppose I never gave you much of a reason, though, did I? I was just as bad as all the other girls in our group. You were our leader, Cho; we all looked up to you. We wanted to be like you in every aspect, and we wanted to share everything we knew about you to the world because of how much we worshipped you."

"You're different, though, Etta. You're the only one who bothered to stick by me," smiled Cho.

"What are best friends for?" she shrugged, beginning to pour herself more tea.

"I really appreciate you trying last night, Marietta," her friend replied quietly. "I was just so—so mixed up and _afraid_ and it had all happened so fast..."

"I know; I probably shouldn't have done anything," she asked, shaking her head and sighing.

"It's not that big a deal. There are times in life where you just have to wake up in the morning and keep moving on, no matter what. It might be hard, but it's something you have to do. You can't keep the sun from rising," sighed Cho, taking a small sip.

"That's what I'm trying to tell you," said Marietta gently. "But I'm also trying to tell you that you can move on and hang on to part of the past at the same time."

There was no reply to this and for a while, the two said nothing as they watched the night sky begin to lighten into brilliant shades of color before it faded away into the usual cheerful blue daylight, fringed by white clouds.

"We'd better tidy up everything," said Cho, causing her friend to give a small start.

"Um, right," Marietta said, picking up her own empty cup as well as Cho's and putting them in the sink, turning the tap on to wash them out properly.

"I should keep working on my article as well," she said absently, putting the milk back in the refrigerator.

"Oh? How's it coming?" asked her friend calmly, scrubbing out the teapot and throwing away the teabags.

"It's all right. I worked on it while I listened to you yelling at the top of your voice outside my door last night," she said, smirking. Marietta sighed in relief, obviously pleased that her friend was regaining her old sarcastic edge.

"You know, we never went to that new restaurant you wanted to go to," Cho continued, talking as she walked to her bedroom to change.

"I thought you were going to finish your article."

"Well, I changed my mind... I don't think I can sit still long enough to start working on it; I've just got too much else to think about, to try and figure out."

"All right... I was running low on a few supplies anyway," said Marietta.

"Didn't you buy everything you needed to last time we went to Diagon Alley?" asked her friend, confused.

"I left out a few things; I didn't find out until I got home. Are you sure you don't need to at least sleep a bit? You've been up all night," she replied, looking worried.

Cho snorted as she walked back into the kitchen, pulling a jumper over her head. "I could say the same about you."

"Well, grab your purse and we'll go," her friend said, drying her hands on the towel hanging over the sink.

"And Marietta?"

"Hmm?"

"Thanks... for everything."

She stood still for a moment, slightly taken aback but pleasantly surprised all the same.

"You're welcome," she said softly.

Cho smiled, and her friend returned the favor before opening the door and walking out. Making sure to grab her purse, Cho followed, closing the door behind her, and then stopping her friend as she headed for the elevator.

"It's healthier to take the stairs," she reminded.

"But I'm still wearing my heels!" exclaimed Marietta in complaint. "Not only that, but I'm also still wearing all my clothes from last night."

"Hmm... you do have a point," Cho said, circling her friend and giving her a look up and down before pulling out her wand and transfiguring Marietta's formal clothes into regular muggle-wear. "And now you don't," she said, smirking and putting away her wand before pushing open the stairway door.

"What makes you think I'm going to take the stairs again, even if I'm wearing the proper clothes now?" Marietta asked defiantly, crossing her arms.

"The fact that you owe me a favor or two hundred for your little charade last night," replied Cho cheekily, knowing fully well how guilt-ridden her friend was at the moment, although she probably wasn't in the wrong, since she had only the very best intentions at heart. But she smiled triumphantly all the same as Marietta's face fell before twisting into a frown of disgust, nose delicately wrinkled.

"Bloody stairs," muttered Marietta under her breath, sulkily following behind her friend.

* * *

It couldn't be... and yet, it _was_. Cho Chang was standing in front of him, looking absolutely breathtaking and at the same time completely surprised to see him. Hell, it had been what, three or four years? His head jerked towards Wood as he began speaking to her and pulling her upright, but Harry ignored his old captain's words, at a loss for his own.

What was he supposed to _say_? Hello? It's nice to see you? He found himself opening his mouth and then closing it again, still fishing around for the right words to tell her, but that seemed to snap the fragile moment. She stiffened at this motion and, without a word, darted into the mass of people, running as though her life depended on it. Several people moved out of her way, but few seemed to notice her leaving.

"Wait!" Harry automatically thought, but hesitated to shout. Instead, he did his best to follow her; chances were, she'd make a beeline for the elevator. Heart going a mile a minute, he began to run as well, but when he reached the two large sliding doors, she was gone.

* * *

"Are you all right, Harry? You seem... quiet," asked Hermione awkwardly, shifting in her seat to get a better look at his face.

"I'm fine," he said mechanically, continuing to stare out the window. His thoughts were still swimming like they hadn't done for quite a while, and he needed to sort them out. She had gone so quickly, as soon as she'd appeared, that he doubted whether it had been real; was it only a dream? He'd spent the rest of his time at the party muttering incoherently to himself, preoccupied with the night's events, trying to put together an answer with the few pieces of the large puzzle that he had on his hands.

Hermione placed a slender hand gently on Ron's arm and gave him a worried look, to which he could only respond with a shrug and a frown as he watched his friend look but not really see outside the taxi window. No one said anything until the car suddenly slowed to a halt in front of Harry's apartment building. He instinctively reached for his wallet, but Hermione stopped him.

"Don't worry about it, Harry, we'll take care of it," she said quietly.

"Thanks," he said in a hollow voice. Then, he opened the car door and went into the building, muttering to himself and jabbed at the elevator button. Surprisingly, when the doors opened, it was empty, for which he was grateful as he stepped in and pressed the button for the ninth floor. He took a glance at his watch and soon saw the reason for the vacant elevator; the watch face read 4:45 A.M. Everyone who'd gone to New Year's parties was either still celebrating or already home. Sighing, he leaned against a smooth wall and tilted his head back to rest on the shiny metal, tiredly walking out of the elevator into the corridor that led to his flat when the doors opened again with a light ding.

Upon reaching his door, he felt around in his pockets for the keys and, finding them, inserted his apartment key into the lock, turned it before removing it, and gave the doorknob a twist to open the door. He turned on the nearest lights before putting his keys down on the wooden table beside the coat closet and, with another weary sigh, sank onto his couch, lost in thought.

"I need to take a shower," he thought absently, taking off his jacket and draping it on a chair.

Plodding toward the bathroom in a daze, he slid back the glass door of the shower and turned on the taps, adjusting the water to the comfortable temperature before taking off his clothes and stepping in, letting each bead of water beat against his back. He leaned his head back, allowing his hair to be wetted, then ran his hands distractedly through it. Mulling over his memories of the night, he couldn't help but become more confused as he recalled the look in her eyes as she looked at him. It was of pain, and shock, of course, and... something else. But how was he supposed to decipher the look on her face if she had suddenly become a shadow that slipped out of his reach?

He sighed heavily and habitually ran his fingers through his hair again. And then a small prickling in his mind reminded him of a certain notebook that he kept hidden away in the drawer of his nightstand.

* * *

"Harry?" asked Hermione, rapping on the door gently.

"He's probably asleep," suggested Ron, with a shrug as she paused to listen for any sound and was responded to with silence.

"Harry, it's Hermione and Ron. Let us in," she called again, knocking a bit harder and more urgently.

"Why are we here anyway?" said Ron, yawning as he leaned against the wall beside the doorframe.

"Because I want to know what was wrong with Harry last night when we were driving home."

"That's all you came to my flat and dragged me over here for? Bloody hell, 'Mione, I hadn't even gotten four hours of sleep yet!" he complained, putting a hand exasperatingly over his eyes.

"Shh! I think I hear something," she hissed, putting her ear to the door. "Yes... I can hear him coming."

Backing away until she was a good distance from the door, she stood expectantly with her hands behind her back and a small satisfied smile on her face, evidently waiting for the door to open. She wasn't disappointed as the door swung open and they were somewhat welcomed in, with a grunt and a wave of the hand.

"Harry? Did you happen to get any sleep?" said Hermione, frowning as she saw dark half-circles under his eyes.

"I'm fine," he muttered, throwing himself down onto the couch to stare broodingly out the window. "You can help yourselves to breakfast, if you'd like," he added, jerking his head towards the dining room table.

"Thanks, mate," replied Ron, snapping awake at the mention of food and making a direct path to the dining room.

"Are you sure you're all right? You look a bit peaky," persisted Hermione, brushing a lock of brown hair out of her eyes to look into Harry's and place a hand on his forehead.

"Yeah," he replied, wrenching himself out of her grasp.

"See? Nothing to worry about," said Ron as best he could with a full mouth.

"Ron? One word: _chew_," chided his girlfriend, narrowing her eyes in a would-be intimidating manner, if the smile on her face hadn't betrayed her.

He rolled his eyes and pretended to reluctantly obey as he walked back to finish his breakfast.

"Listen, Harry, you haven't been like this for a while now. We know something must've happened last night to make you so moody and silent, and we came here to help you," explained Hermione, to which Ron gave a loud snort at the word "we."

She in turn rolled her own eyes, sighed, and then said, "Fine. _I_ know something's wrong with you and _I_ came to help you. I just dragged this prat along because 1. He's your best friend, 2. I thought I could use the backup, and 3. I know he hasn't gotten the full fifteen hours he needs to sleep, and it annoys the hell out of him that he's had to come down here."

"Aha!" said Ron, pointing a finger at her and launching a light spray of scrambled egg into the air. "I knew it!"

"I thought I told you to chew," snapped Hermione, putting a hand on her hip as she stood up.

"I'm chewing, I'm chewing," he mumbled, turning around again as she began to approach him with the same sort of dangerous glint in her eye Mrs. Weasley possessed.

Harry managed a small laugh and shook his head at his friends' antics.

"So. Are you going to tell me, or am I going to have to drag it out of you?" she asked, rounding on him again.

"I think... we can go for a walk and I'll tell you then," he said, standing up as well. "Just let me go and change."

"Ron? Did you hear that? You've got five minutes to finish up your food," she called.

"Done," he replied, putting his plate and cup into the kitchen sink.

"Why don't we go find the nearest coffee shop and get something to drink? It's the perfect weather for it," suggested Hermione, taking a tissue out of her purse and beginning to wipe off Ron's face, much to his fake indignation.

"Sounds fine," said Harry as he emerged from his bedroom before heading to the coat closet and pulling out a jacket.

"Do you have your key?" asked his friend in maternal tones as she threw away the used tissue.

"Yeah. Let's go," he replied, holding the door open for both his friends.

"Wait!" said Hermione, stopping Harry from closing the door. "Don't you need to brush your hair?"

He and Ron looked at her as if she had gone mad.

"Oh. Right. Well, shall we?" she asked sheepishly, after eyeing Harry's naturally tousled dark locks and realizing the absurdity of her previous statement.

"Looks as though I wasn't the only one who didn't get enough sleep," teased Harry as he followed behind her.

"Damn right. She came and woke me up not five hours after I'd dropped her off at her place," growled Ron, evidently still not pleased.

"Ah, but that's what the coffee is for," replied Hermione, smiling as the elevator doors opened.

"Unless you make me buy the decaffeinated kind again," he muttered under his breath.

"You can buy the regular, if you think that'll help you stay awake," she said crisply, pressing the button for the first floor.

"You're making him buy decaffeinated coffee?" Harry asked, arching an eyebrow in interest.

"He can't really benefit from being addicted to caffeine, now can he?" Hermione said, lacing her fingers into Ron's.

"I'd stay awake a lot more," he shrugged.

"That, and you'd be all twitchy and nervous," she retorted.

"Would not."

"I remember the first time you tried to stay up all night to get a head start on the next day's work and you drank about three pots of coffee," said Harry, habitually leaning against the elevator wall.

"And you couldn't get your left eye to stop twitching the next day at work," added Hermione, reaching up with a hand to pinch his cheek in mock patronization. "Remember?"

"Wasn't it twitching so badly that you couldn't open your eye at all?" asked Harry, looking thoughtful.

"No!" Ron argued. "I _almost_ couldn't open my eye."

"Oh, such a striking difference! How could we have possibly overlooked it?" Hermione said sardonically.

"We'll just be sure not to let you have too much coffee again," smirked Harry.

* * *

"It's still sixteen galleons, no matter how urgent your need is. It should be higher, if anything," persisted the shop owner stubbornly, shaking his head.

"No! I refuse to pay you anything more than five," retorted Marietta.

Cho sighed tiredly and tried to blink away the itch of sleepiness from her eyes, but still managed an amused smile; her friend had now been verbally sparring with the man for a full fifteen minutes and people were beginning to stare along with her.

"Listen, miss, armadillo spleen is more difficult to process and find nowadays, due to the higher demand for it. They've almost completely cleared out the entire species! Did you know that one nutter was so desperate that he tried to _steal one from a muggle zoo_?" he attempted to explain patiently.

"I don't care if he tried to steal one from his grandmother," she snarled through clenched teeth. "That still has nothing to do with me arguing with you right now in this shop about your shameful and low attempt to make more money off of innocent and law-abiding citizens."

"What are you, a lawyer?" he asked indignantly.

"As a matter of fact—"

"C'mon, Etta, I don't think he's worth the trouble," interrupted Cho, taking her friend by the arm and pulling her to the door.

Sniffing huffily, she yanked her arm out of her friend's reach to shake her fist angrily at the man and yell out, as her last strike, "YOU'RE A DISGRACE OF A WIZARD, YOU HEAR ME! I WOULD HAVE YOU CASTRATED, BUT THERE'S NOTHING THERE!"

"_Marietta_!" exclaimed her friend, completely taken aback. Evidently, the shop owner was in a state of shock as well, for all he did was drop his jaw and watch helplessly as the people inside the store applauded and laughed before walking out of the store with every intent of never coming back.

"Sixteen galleons for a bowlful of armadillo spleen? It's outrageous! The bowl isn't even as wide as my hand!" complained Marietta as she and her friend walked out of a shop.

"Shh, the owner will hear you," shushed Cho, giving a glance behind her and feeling slightly guilty as she made no attempt to restrain a giggle as she saw him seeming to be fighting the urge to cry.

"Let him hear me!" her friend exclaimed angrily. "He should be dragged off to Azkaban for trying to overcharge me. Sixteen galleons... look at me, Cho! Do I look like I'm made out of money?"

"Actually, I can't answer that question."

"Of course you can't; it's rhetorical."

"No, I meant that if I answered it one way or the other, you'd end up being offended or angry with me. Besides, who introduced you to the whole rhetorical question concept?" asked Cho, raising her eyebrows.

"Ugh, my head hurts, Cho. Just stop talking for a little while and I'll feel a bit better," moaned her friend, rubbing her temples as they continued to walk at a steady pace.

"Well, I don't know if I can do _that_, but I think I do know of something that might make you feel better."

"And what would that be?" said Marietta petulantly.

"One enormous fudge sundae at Florean Fortescue's," she replied, licking her lips slightly as though she was already savoring the taste of one herself.

"Hmm... I suppose that would make me feel a great deal better."

"Of course it would. I'd think you'd gone mad if you turned down a perfectly good sundae, especially since I'll be treating you to one."

"Now that you put it that way... could you manage to walk a bit faster?"

Cho snorted and said, "I doubt it, Marietta. I may be able to come shopping with you for a few hours or so, but after my sundae, I'm probably going to go home and fall asleep on my couch."

"Can I join you? I can't exactly walk another ten miles either," her friend replied, attempting to stifle a yawn, which resulted in a strange half-yawn, half-moan.

"Yes, but why, then, would you ask me to exert myself so much if you can't go any faster either?" she said indignantly.

"Because my judgment's been impaired by lack of sleep."

"That's an excuse... not a good one, but that's an excuse, all right," she replied, shaking her head.

Both stopped as they reached the front of the store and, pushing open the door, managed to drag themselves to the nearest table, where they began to squabble about who would go and place the order.

"You go."

"I'm too tired; you go."

"I'm tired, too! I'm not going; you are."

"No, I'm not; you are."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you _are_."

"You can't make me do anything."

"Yes, I can."

"And why is that?"

"Because I'm paying, remember?"

Marietta stood up in defeat, muttering darkly to herself as she trudged up to the counter as Cho watched with the look of utmost satisfaction at winning the debate etched clearly on her face.

"Never underestimate the power of chocolate," she grinned to herself.

"Can't take the bloody elevator, had no sleep," mumbled Marietta, a frown deep-set in between her eyes. She tapped her fingers on the clean counter, beginning to lose her patience even though she'd only been standing there for a few moments; all clear perceptions of time were muddied up by exhaustion. Whoever had opened up the shop obviously hadn't bothered to keep watch for customers as a few more long moments passed and still nobody came to take her order. Glancing around quickly, she noticed a shiny summoning bell and, moving over a few steps, began to half-heartedly press the small button on top over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over...

"Marietta!"

"What?"

"Would you _please_ stop ringing that bell? Someone's probably already on the way, so now you're just being annoying," sighed Cho, laying her head down on her arms and fighting the urge to simply bang it repeatedly on the clean tabletop.

"I don't see anyone, do you?" said Marietta defensively.

Cho looked up, shook her head, and then lowered it again with a dull thud before saying in a slightly muffled voice, "Look in front of you."

Frowning, the strawberry blonde turned her head to look behind the counter and found herself face-to-face with Florean Fortescue himself. She gave a short yelp of surprise, to which her friend replied by snorting loudly and beginning to laugh while the kind-eyed owner backed away, startled, but managed to grin and say, "Now, what can I get for you two ladies?"

Any thoughts of scolding him for his poor service immediately flew out of her mind as she said, "Two fudge sundaes, please, and with extra chocolate syrup on top."

"Hold—the ch—cherry," gasped Cho in between laughs.

"Right. I'll be right back with your orders," the elderly gentleman replied, motioning for his charmed quill and pad, which had been steadily taking down the order, to follow him before disappearing behind a set of swinging steel doors.

"Well, that was easy enough," said Marietta brightly, before taking a seat in front of her friend, who had managed to control her laughing fit.

"_Right_," Cho replied, rolling her eyes.

* * *

"So, you saw Cho at the party last night?" asked Hermione in a low voice, leaning in across the table.

"At least, I think so. She left so soon and I only got to see her for a minute or so," replied Harry, frowning. He'd managed to explain the highlights of the previous night in a matter of minutes, carefully leaving out the detail of the notebook, since he wasn't quite sure what to do with it yet and had simply left it to continue gathering dust or whatnot in his drawer.

"It's entirely possible, when you take into account how many acquaintances and friends John has," she said thoughtfully.

"What's it supposed to mean?" said Ron, taking a sip of his latte.

"It might not mean anything at all. Why are you so caught up in all this, anyway, Harry? I thought you'd gotten over her a long time ago," Hermione said, arching an eyebrow questioningly.

"You didn't see her last night, when she looked at me," he said quietly. "She had this expression on her face..."

"Nausea? Hate?" suggested Ron. Hermione glared at him, narrowing her eyes.

"Be serious, Ron," she scolded.

"I _am_ serious."

"No, she looked, I dunno, happy to see me, almost," Harry said, shaking his head.

"That _is_ a bit confusing, isn't it? Did you try talking to her?" queried Hermione, placing a hand under her chin and biting her lower lip slightly.

He shook his head again. "She left too soon for me to say anything to her."

A long silence followed his last comment as Hermione returned to pondering, Ron continued sipping, and Harry absent-mindedly fiddled with the packets of sugar to the right of his coffee.

"Well? What do you want to do about it?" Hermione said finally.

He shrugged. "I don't know," he answered truthfully.

"I doubt it's anything to get yourself all worked up over if you don't like her anymore, mate... Do you?" asked Ron.

"Why all the unanswerable questions?" he quipped, smiling slightly and lifting an eyebrow.

"Why the avoidance of trying to answer the questions?" retorted Hermione, grinning slyly.

"All right, I surrender," he said, putting up his hands slightly as a form of defeat.

"Not quite the answer I wanted to hear, but, all right," she replied with a laugh.

"So... did she look good?" Ron asked curiously.

"Erm, well, I..." Harry faltered, turning slightly scarlet.

Ron and Hermione exchanged glances.

"She looked _good_," they said simultaneously, smiling.

He turned a darker shade of red, only further confirming their suspicions.

"There's nothing to be ashamed of, Harry. She was a good-looking girl in school, and she's probably a gorgeous woman," assured Ron. "But definitely not as good-looking as you, 'Mione," he added quickly after a warning look from Hermione.

"You could always ask John for her address; I'm sure he'd be able to get it, dating Marietta and all," advised Hermione.

"And what would I do with her address? Just show up at her doorstep out of the blue? 'Oh, I was just in the neighborhood and I decided to drop by and say hello and I just _happened_ to know where you live. Mind if I come in?' " Harry said sarcastically.

"Not exactly what I had in mind," Hermione scoffed.

"Why not?" asked Ron, frowning and looking from his best friend to his girlfriend, perplexed. They stared incredulously at him for a few moments before erupting into laughter.

"Tactless should be your middle name," chuckled Hermione.

"I'm not tactless!" he snapped. "I'm just saying, why can't Harry go see her with some made-up excuse? He could probably figure for himself whether or not she still likes him by how she acts."

"He didn't know when she needed to be comforted," pointed out his less-than-enthusiastic girlfriend.

Harry blushed again, saying indignantly, "She was just crying all over me and I didn't know what exactly to do at the moment. How was I to know she was being torn apart by at least five different emotions?"

Ron snorted to which Hermione replied by saying huffily, "Well, it was your idea!"

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "If it's such a wonderful plan, why don't you do it yourself, and tell me how it all goes?"

"Me?" Ron gulped, suddenly turning a few shades paler.

"You. Like Hermione said, we could always go and ask Harvey what her address is, and then you can come up with the clever explanation you're going to tell her when you suddenly show up at her front door without any warning whatsoever," said Harry, smirking as his friend's eyes widened, whether in fear or panic, he couldn't tell.

"But—what would I say?" he stammered.

"I thought you were supposed to be brilliant enough to think of something," replied Hermione calmly.

"And I thought you said I was tactless."

"You're the one who denied it; are you going back on your denial?"

"_So what if I am_?"

"The two of you can do what you want, go together to see her, if you like, or just don't go at all, but I would appreciate the help," interrupted Harry as he sensed a perpetual back-and-forth argument beginning.

"Fine. Ron, we're going together," said Hermione firmly, adding as her boyfriend opened his mouth to protest, "and if you don't cooperate, I'll be showing everyone at work that picture of you in those pink footie pajamas."

"I only wore those because my grandmother still thinks, to this day, that I'm a girl, and she wouldn't even believe me when I told her that I wasn't! For someone who can't see that well, she can still hurl a merciless Spanking Hex..." he half-shouted, ears turning bright red.

"Right, so you'll be joining me without a fuss," Hermione nodded.

"Just out of curiosity, how old were you when that picture was taken? Three? Four?" inquired Harry, propping his head on a fist.

His friend turned completely red and mumbled something under his breath.

"Sorry, didn't hear that," Harry said cheerfully.

"It was taken just a few months ago," Hermione readily replied for him.

"_Hermione_," Ron hissed, instinctively holding a finger up to his lips.

"Oh, so you can yell for the entire café to hear that your grandmother can still—ahem—_discipline_ you and that she thinks you're a girl, but you won't let me tell Harry—quietly, mind you—when a photograph was taken?" Hermione asked incredulously, emphasizing her point with a sharp look.

Ron finally looked as though he'd been beaten as he slumped down in his seat sullenly, muttering darkly. Hermione grinned.

"Blackmail... not bad," replied Harry, smiling back.

"It's not that difficult when we know everything about each other anyway." Hermione said, with a small shrug.

"Speaking of which, Harry, have I told you about this one book I found underneath the bathroom sink in her flat the other day?" asked Ron maliciously, smirking.

Her mouth fell open and she picked up her purse and began to hit him insatiably saying and emphasizing each word with a blow as she did, "Be—quiet—you—great—_prat_!"

"So nice to see how much you love each other," Harry said, sitting back and grinning as Hermione continued to beat Ron senseless.

* * *

(Just for the heck of it)

**Disclaimer**: (crosses fingers) Oh no, everything here's mine, I swear!

A/N: Okay, so here's another chapter, and you didn't have to wait for six months this time! As for my email review reply idea, I'm just gonna go ahead and reply in my updates, because it's too much trouble to track down everyone's address, and then there are the people who probably aren't giving me their email because they think I'll stalk them or something, etc. No excuses this time, but band camp will be something of an interference and then school starts up again for me August 2nd. So, bear with me if the updates become more spaced out.

Back to work I go on **Red Roses**... but one more announcement. This fall I'll be taking the PSAT and it's really essential that I make good scores on it in order to get early admittance (as in being accepted this year and then, when I finish high school, I've already got a college to go to the following fall)/a scholarship into the college I want to go to, so that I don't have to scramble around, etc. later on in life to get money loans and whatnot. So, obviously, I'll have to be concentrating a bit harder on my studies this year than I was last year, and if I have another six-month gap in my update times, please bear with me, because I promise I'll get this story out. I just need to get ready for the test, take it, and then I'll have more time to relax and write. Thanks so much to you all for being so supportive and faithful, and I promise that these author's notes will eventually get shorter.


	10. Rekindled Hopes

Chapter 10 

Hermione sat on the couch, patiently thumbing through the directory while Ron paced back and forth with crimson ears, ranting and raving while his girlfriend continued to calmly search.

"…I thought _Harry_ was going to be the one to do this, but _no_, he has to have us make sure the coast is clear first. I could very well blackmail you with that book I found into not forcing me to go with you," he threatened, eyes flashing.

"And I'd match you with the Christmas card your family sent to your grandmother last year, with you in that frilly pinafore to match with Ginny," she replied coolly, perusing a page quickly.

"Well, how would you feel if I told Harry and everyone else at work about you still having to sleep with a stuffed animal?" he retorted, crossing his arms resolutely.

She shrugged and said, "I don't know, Ron, how would you feel about me putting an announcement in the Daily Prophet about how you managed to lodge a Fizzing Whizbee into your right nostril last week, with pictures included?"

He paused, puffing out his chest in annoyance, a motion only Percy could rival, before finally muttering, "I need to stop telling you everything."

She laughed shortly before setting aside the directory book to stand up and stand on her tiptoes to kiss him on the nose and wrap her arms around his waist, gestures he reluctantly returned.

"Even if you could manage to keep every embarrassing or awkward situation from me, I'd still have enough information to bother you with for quite a while. Anyway, that's beside the point. We can either keep threatening each other, or we can help Harry find someone to tell everything to and be blackmailed by," Hermione grinned, looking up at him as she spoke.

Ron smiled back with his lopsided, good-natured smile and said suddenly, "'Mione?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm glad I found my someone."

"I couldn't be happier about the fact that I found mine, too," she said softly.

"It's yours truly, correct?" he asked jokingly.

"Only if I'm yours."

"You've always been the only girl for me," he replied.

"Good. Now that we've got all that cleared away, let's get to searching for that address, shall we?" she said, removing herself from his embrace and returning to the sofa, where he joined her.

"I've always liked this couch," he remarked. "It's really comfortable."

"I like it, too. I'm thinking about getting an armchair that matches it, since I've got that empty space over there," she said absently, jerking her head towards the vacant spot.

"Mm."

"Charleston, too far, Chipper, no… ah! Here it is, Cho Chang, Flat 801, Carrington Building…London. Isn't that—?"

"—Harry's building," Ron finished for her in a low voice.

"Judging by her flat number, she's most likely on the floor below Harry's and in the apartment _below Harry's_," Hermione barely whispered, slightly in awe.

"What are the odds of that happening?" asked Ron incredulously, taking the directory out of his girlfriend's hands to look more closely at the address, as if there had been some misprint.

"Not very likely; probably less than one in a million. Do you think we should tell Harry?"

"I dunno. Let's just wait until after we go see her."

"When do you think that should be?"

"I _don't know_. I thought you were supposed to be the cleverest witch in our year."

"And I though you were supposed to be the one who came up with the clever idea to go and see Cho in the first place."

"It wasn't my idea for the two of us to go and pay her a visit. I was thinking more along the lines of letting Harry do the honors."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You really can't tell how he's feeling, can you?"

"What do you mean by that?" Ron asked indignantly.

"Harry's obviously asked us to go for him because he's still uncomfortable about the whole situation," she explained with a patronizing air.

"He said that he was just confused about what to do. You were there; you heard him say that."

"He _said_ that, but his face said that he was feeling awkward about the whole thing, as though he wasn't sure about how to handle it."

"How do women _see_ this?" he inquired of no one in particular, shaking his head.

"We're just naturally more adept at reading emotions than men are," she replied, grinning.

"D'you reckon she's still mad about me abusing her Quidditch team?" he mused, scratching his chin thoughtfully.

"Who? Cho? You think she'd still be angry over something that happened all the way back in our school days? I doubt it," she snorted. "Even she's got more sense than that. She was sorted into Ravenclaw for a reason. Although I still can't believe that, after all these years, you're as faithful a Chudley Cannons fan as there ever was."

"They'll be making their comeback one of these days, mark my words," defended Ron.

"Consider them marked," Hermione quipped. "Now, I propose that you go home and we both take nice, long naps and then go drop in on Cho first thing tomorrow morning. Fair enough?"

"It sounds perfectly fine by me," he replied, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek before Disapparating with a loud pop.

—————————

"Can you believe it?!" Marietta squealed loudly, shoving her hand in Cho's face.

It took more than a moment for Cho to register exactly what had been added to her friend's hand that was so exciting.

"I don't see anything," she said at first, frowning.

"Oh, honestly, Cho, _look harder_," Marietta replied, rolling her eyes and giving her hand another push so that it was even closer to Cho's eyes.

She stared at each finger and the back of the hand, feeling utterly stupid. There wasn't anything different. The nails had been painted a bright shade of crimson a few days or so before in preparation for John's party, each rounded off perfectly on top, the color sealed in with an extra protective layer of enamel. The promise ring John had given her for their 6-month anniversary was there, on top of which rested an engagement ring, and—

Everything stopped.

An engagement ring?

"You're engaged?" Cho muttered slowly, as excitement could be seen mounting anew in her friend's eyes.

"Yes! John came by my flat this morning, and we had argued for a while until he finally yelled, 'Well, I'm sorry if I wanted to propose to you last night, but you don't have to get all shirty with me for asking why you left so early,' and of course my heart melted right then and there and I told him I'd marry him," Marietta positively gushed, clasping her hands together in rapture.

"All… right," Cho answered carefully, feeling happy for her friend and then also a bit frightened at Marietta's sudden relapse into her old ditzy habits.

"Oh, don't mind me, I'm just so happy I had to tell someone," her friend dismissed impatiently at the look on Cho's face, grinning from ear to ear. No, not ear-to-ear. It had to be from one wall of the hallway back down to the elevator.

"Evidently," Cho yawned as she leaned against a side of the doorframe and sleepily half-closed her eyes.

Marietta had come over considerably late in the morning, but Cho's body seemed to have not compensated for the complete lack of rest the night before, as if a full ten hours of sleep simply wasn't enough.

"You're not still tired, are you? I'm beginning to think you should go and see a medi-wizard. Or witch," added Marietta, placing both hands on her hips and tapping a foot disapprovingly.

"Well, I'm sorry, but not everyone's been proposed to by the love of their life this morning," replied Cho sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

"I could always look Harry up for you, you know," Marietta hinted slyly with a small grin, which faded away at the look on her friend's face. "I was just joking," she added hastily.

"Of course you were. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to keep working on my article," Cho murmured, turning to walk back into her flat and close the door.

"But you didn't even say congratulations to me!" huffed Marietta.

"Congratulations," she said half-heartedly, before closing the door with a small snap.

"Well!" Marietta exclaimed indignantly. "No matter. I'm sure she'll feel better once she's had another good night of sleep."

Then, turning to go, she happily strolled towards the elevator and pressed the button as, almost as though it had been timed, the doors slid open and she came face-to-face with the last two people on earth she'd expect to see there, of all places.

"Hermione! Ron? What—what are you doing here?" she asked, flabbergasted.

"We, um, just came by to—to…" Ron attempted, being at a total loss for words as well.

"—to talk to Cho about something," finished Hermione, not quite sure whether it was the right thing to say or not.

"Cho? About… what?" she inquired, arching an eyebrow in slight suspicion.

"It's… well, you see, we came by to ask her…" Hermione explained adequately, looking as though she was debating whether or not to give away the reason why she and Ron were visiting Cho Chang, their best friend's ex-girlfriend that they hadn't seen for years.

"Is it… about… Harry?" Marietta asked carefully, shrewdly and logically working her way through the puzzle.

"Why would you assume something like that?" Hermione replied, involuntarily stiffening.

"I think, if you wouldn't mind, that this can be further discussed over a drink," said Marietta slowly.

"All right… but no coffee," Hermione agreed cautiously, immediately quenching any attempts at protesting on Ron's part by elbowing him in the ribs.

—————————

"I wonder if one could develop an addiction to chocolate sundaes," reflected Marietta, scooping out another large spoonful of ice cream from her bowl.

"It's possible," shrugged Hermione.

"So, would you like to tell me any specifics about Harry?" Marietta asked, quirking an eyebrow suggestively.

"That depends on whether or not you plan on telling us anything about Cho," blurted Ron, before Hermione could reply. A muffled thump from underneath the table, followed by an "Ouch!" from Ron implied that he'd received his punishment for speaking irrationally.

"And _that_ depends on what you want to know," Marietta replied slyly, grinning.

"All right, here's what we know," began Hermione, clamping a hand over Ron's mouth. "Harry still has feelings for Cho—"

"But he never said that. How do you know?" interrupted Ron, tugging her hand away from his mouth.

"Feminine instinct," she replied. "Anyway, we thought he'd forgotten all about her, and didn't think anything about her—"

"Until the New Year's party at John's place day before yesterday," finished Ron.

"Will you stop interrupting me?" Hermione snapped crossly, slapping his wrist sharply as he reached to take a drink from her milkshake.

"You're being so abusive today," he complained, rubbing his sore wrist.

"As I was saying, after Harry saw Cho at the party, his mood changed," resumed Hermione, ignoring her boyfriend. "He became distant and distracted, like he was only half there. When we went to visit him the next morning, or, rather, yesterday morning, he was still the same, but looking worn out, as though he'd kept on thinking without going to sleep."

Marietta nodded gravely, indicating for her to continue.

"We talked to him yesterday, and that was when I came to the conclusion that he still likes her," finished Hermione.

"And I had come up with the idea to go and see Cho today to see if she felt the same way," added Ron, after making certain that he wouldn't be hit for contributing to the conversation.

"Obviously, he needed me to come along with him to make sure that he didn't get his behind hexed from Cho's apartment to the moon, which is our reason for being there this morning. You?" asked Hermione, smirking at the look on Ron's face.

Without saying a word, Marietta flashed a bright smile and held up her hand for them to see, the late morning sunlight streaming in through the window beside their booth and catching on the bright diamond on her finger.

"You're engaged?"

"Just this morning."

"Congratulations," smiled Hermione, as Marietta beamed at her.

"Thanks."

"So, you were at Cho's this morning to tell her that you're engaged?" asked Ron.

"Yep," Marietta replied, rolling her eyes, "and I think I caught her at a bad time, since she was less than supportive."

"I thought she was your best friend," frowned Hermione.

"She is. She's just not a morning person," Marietta shrugged.

"Remind you of anyone?" inquired Hermione, giving Ron a pointed look.

"Harry?"

"Ha, ha," she said dryly.

"Now, stop straying away from the subject. What about Cho?" asked Ron impatiently, turning to face Marietta again, who was thoughtfully admiring her ring.

"Oh, well, the details really are tedious and the two of you, no doubt, would like to jump straight to the most interesting information. I found out by myself and arranged for Cho to bump into Harry at the party," began Marietta.

"So it wasn't just an accident!" exclaimed Hermione, evidently surprised.

"Yes," nodded Marietta, "as well as Jillian and Kirana. Old friends from school," she added at the look on Ron's face.

"And you know for sure what, exactly?" said Ron, taking the opportunity of his girlfriend's flushed and distracted mood to take her milkshake from under her nose.

"She still likes him, maybe even loves him. I had a long talk with her right after the party, and I found out a great deal of things. From what the three of us know, I'd say we could put something together," concluded Marietta, the corners of her mouth curving upwards slightly as Ron slurped away at Hermione's drink.

"The only question is, what to do?" said Hermione, staring at the table, lost in thought.

Marietta sighed and said, "I really don't know. Cho's so sharp at spotting when I'm up to something, and she's sure to be more suspicious after the party incident. We'd have to be really sneaky to make sure she doesn't find out our plan and ruin it."

"Harry doesn't have any suspicions against us, so we shouldn't have any trouble with him. We could probably have them accidentally on purpose run into each other again somewhere," commented Hermione, snapping out of her reverie.

"But where…?" Marietta trailed off, glancing out the window.

And then she saw it down the street. It was perfect.

"Hermione, Ron, I think… I have a plan," she said, turning back to the two and grinning, that manic glint in her eye.

—————————

Harry perused down the page, grimacing. Auror records leaned on one of two extremes: mind-numbingly boring, or appetite ruining gruesome. Of course, there were the usual shades of gray in between the two, and occasional dips into the puzzling and bizarre, which were either amusing or just head scratching.

Literally piles of these dossiers lay strewn about on his living room floor, and, although he'd been working since early that morning, he wasn't even close to being halfway through.

"If only they'd take the women's work pile up a notch, then the men wouldn't have so much to do," Harry thought. "Then again, they might not be able to handle some of these reports," his mind added as his emerald eyes widened behind his spectacles at the sight of graphic photographs of a crime scene. He might've been able to stomach it better if it hadn't been able to move, as all pictures did in the wizarding world. A mutilated eyeball rolled in and out of the picture, blown by some mysterious source of wind, as the victim, strung by a thick rope from the ceiling, dangled and swayed along with the breeze.

Harry made a face, then quickly closed the file and put it away. He was therefore decidedly surprised and relieved when he heard a knock at his door and rose to answer it.

"Ron?"

"Hey Harry. Catching up on work?"

"It's not like I have much choice; our holiday ends tomorrow at 8:00 sharp when we walk into the Ministry building," Harry snorted, walked back to his spot on the couch.

"Mm," replied Ron absently, studying the pictures on the wall beside the door.

A few silent moments passed between the two before Harry cleared his throat loudly and gave Ron a pointed look, who jumped in return and swallowed hard, as if to dissipate a lump that had suddenly developed in his throat.

"So, Harry, erm, about—about Hermione," he began uncertainly.

"Yes?" his friend asked, raising an eyebrow,

"I was just thinking about proposing to her, you know, not too long from now."

"Or else Harvey and I would have been after your blood, yes," added Harry.

"Well," Ron continued, licking his lips slightly, "I was thinking about taking her to that new restaurant they've just opened in Diagon Alley."

"The one we went to just a few days ago?"

"No, it's this other one they built close to it. Anyway, it's a romantic little restaurant, just right for what I've been planning."

"And?" Harry blinked. It seemed as though it were an open and shut case to him. Which was proof that he'd been reading through files for too long, he supposed.

"And—I was wondering if you'd come with me, to give the place a look over, maybe see if I should still keep my mind set on it," finished Ron, managing to maintain a commendable tone of casualty.

"Oh." Harry replied, adding with his eyes, "Is that all?"

"I was thinking maybe 7 o'clock next… Wednesday?" his friend suggested, seeming to be mulling it over in his mind for a moment before he spoke.

Harry paused for a moment, thinking of some impossibly outrageous notion that Ron and Hermione would actually—no, it was simply too absurd to think of.

"Sure. What should I wear?" he replied, unconsciously running a hand through his hair.

"Dress formally, and make sure you're on time," Ron blurted, and then turned as if to flee for his life, all former signs of composure gone.

"Ron, you all right?"

"Me?" he squeaked. "Yeah. I'm fine. Just perfect."

"How did this morning go?" Harry inquired, the thought just occurring to him.

"She… wasn't home. Sorry," Ron replied, with a hint of stiffness.

"Hm. You might want to go home and take a shower. A cold one," Harry added, taking in his friend's agitated state of mind and appearance. "Or," he said dryly, "you could stay here and help me with these files."

Ron looked towards the teetering stacks of records and then towards the door before patting his friend on the shoulder briefly, almost in sympathy, then walked out the apartment saying, "See you tomorrow, Harry."

Cho- 

_Found this absolutely _fabulous_ place to have the reception for the wedding, and, perhaps, the rehearsal dinner. Of course, I expect you to help me with the planning, as my maid of honor, and as such, your first duty will be to meet me there at 7 o'clock next Wednesday to see if it's worthy of our attention. The name of the place is The Aurora Borealis. Nifty, isn't it? I hear the decorations are simply divine. Make sure you're dressed nicely (and please don't show up in the oldest muggle clothes you own, just to annoy me) and on time. Leave the reservations to me. I forgive you for your lack of enthusiasm this morning, by the way._

_-Marietta_

Cho snorted loudly as she read the letter; her friend was already beginning to act like a stereotypical teenage girl again, and without a doubt almost as nauseatingly perky. Although even the name of the restaurant sounded a bit out of Marietta's price range, she thought of John, and his almost abnormal amount of wealth, and quickly dismissed such thoughts from her head. Money really was no issue. Whether or not the restaurant met her friend's high standards was another subject entirely; Marietta had the habit of setting her eyes on a certain prize and settling for no more and no less than exactly what she wanted.

The flowers had to be arranged just so, and the atmosphere of the place, Cho knew, would have to be perfectly romantic and appropriate.

Romance seemed wasted on Cho, for she stubbornly refused to succumb to it in any form or fashion, and the closest she had come to giving in to it had been her quick brush with Harry a few days before. She gave a small frown at the recollection, although it hadn't been directly unpleasant. He'd become extremely handsome over the years, as far as she could recall from her whirlwind encounter with him, and, she managed to remember, still possessed the same ability to make her go weak at the knees with a single word. Now that her head wasn't swirling in a vortex of emotions, however, she found that it wasn't exactly the best way for their paths to cross again.

Scribbling a quick reply on the back of her friend's note, she sent Aphrodite on her way, much to the indignation of the owl who had brought her the letter in the first place.

"Sorry," she shrugged at the bird as it ruffled its feathers angrily, "but Dite was about to go nutters if I didn't let her out for a breath of fresh air. You accomplished your original task."

It clicked its beak sharply as though it didn't quite agree, bent on maintaining the belief that his duty was only half done, but all the same accepted the food and water that Cho offered him.

The edges of her lips curved upwards slightly as she re-seated herself on the couch, snuggling into the comfort of its pillows and taking up her quill and a roll of parchment, as well as a large hard-cover book to bear down on. Biting her lip slightly, she compared the small notes she'd taken from the team and the ones she'd made during the match. Nothing particularly witty popped into her head, and the paper remained frustratingly clean. She tapped the feathered end of her quill to the side of her nose thoughtfully and looked over her notes again, to see if inspiration would suddenly strike her. Still nothing.

She loved the sport, and she loved to write, but she found that when it came to actually writing about Quidditch, she could only concentrate on the feel of the adrenaline it gave her and the wind raking through her hair rather than jotting it down on paper. Besides that, whatever she did manage to write down sounded either too boring or sickeningly… sentimental. After reading her notes yet another time and still thinking of no proper way to start off her article, she roughly shoved her pen and paper away from her in frustration. There was no way to deny it any more, she thought with a sigh; she had writer's block.

Not only would memories of past Quidditch matches come to mind whenever she attempted to compose something, but past opponents as well, which included Harry, which brought her to thinking of the party a few days ago. Which, of course, was absolutely no good, because she would then be seized by another fit of frustration, dashed with a touch of confusion for good measure, and her mind would be successfully distracted. Sighing loudly, she decided to go and look for a dress to wear to the restaurant, even though she already had a considerable number of perfectly appropriate clothes. Already being dressed, all she had to do was grab her purse, let Marietta's owl fly out, and put on a jacket.

While she walked down the street towards the familiar streets of Diagon Alley, a small thought tickled at the back of her mind, which she tried to ignore. Marietta wouldn't try something like that again… would she?

"No. She wouldn't," Cho decided firmly in her mind. "She knows better than that."

Marietta evidently didn't, as she rejoiced in her flat on the other side of London by letting out a loud squeal after reading her friend's note.

A/N: I survived the PSAT, yay! However, you can imagine how extremely _ticked off_ I was to find out that whatever I score on it now doesn't matter because I won't get a scholarship unless I do well on it _next_ year. Grr. Sorry about the long delay, as usual. Marching band is getting hectic lately, since we have our second (and last competition) this Saturday and we're practicing like crazy, and then I have a heap of tests coming up which I can only pray that I will do well on. Now, this is usually the part where I reply to your reviews, but I thought I'd try something a bit different. I now have an account on that everyone can go to for my review replies, and can't really complain about it, because I'm not posting review replies directly on my chapters. I'm also re-uploading all the chapters without the replies in them in this story and in **Red Roses**. Anyone who has any further comment on can find my email address and my livejournal address on my bio.****

Much gratitude to everyone who reviewed!

-Unicorn13


	11. Serendipity

**Chapter 11**

"Finished!" Cho exclaimed triumphantly, as her levitating quill scribbled the last period and signed her name at the bottom of the parchment.

"If that's not one of the best articles I've ever written, I don't know what is," she continued to no one in particular, except, perhaps, Aphrodite, who was perched on the armchair beside the couch on which Cho was working. Satisfied with the results of her labor, she whistled for the owl and tied the finished work onto its leg, after making sure that she had replicated a copy of it for herself.

Whispering a few instructions to the animal and caressing its beak with the back of her finger, Cho walked over to the living room window, opened it, and sent her pet on its way.

Stretching her limbs and yawning once or twice, she set about cleaning up her work area and putting away the various quills, bits of paper, and books. Once she'd finished, she walked to the bathroom and gave herself a good look in the mirror, frowning as she did so at her disheveled appearance.

She raked her fingers through her hair absent-mindedly before lifting her brush from the counter and finishing the job more efficiently. A sense of accomplishment had wound itself loosely in her senses and, as she basked in the afterglow, she found her thoughts beginning to wander. Wander to things she, before now, had not had the time to ponder over, things that she'd willingly pushed to the back of her mind.

She wasn't sure why she was so bent on musing over the party; she'd already thought over almost every aspect of it, and Marietta had already confessed to what she had done. It had to be that she was still stuck with the unsettling idea of what would have happened if she hadn't run away. Over the last week she had willed herself not to think about it, to concentrate on her article and helping Marietta with the extremely early beginnings of wedding planning, finding that burying herself in work kept her mind busy and away from any thoughts that would leave her frustrated and always wondering.

But... what if she had stayed? Harry hadn't looked unhappy to see her, just shell-shocked, and with good reason, she decided, given their sudden meeting after so long. Everything that had happened during their years at Hogwarts was almost somehow like part of a separate life they had lived as different people. There was just no way of telling how time had changed him. Given her feelings that night, she began to wonder exactly how it had changed _her_.

On the reasonable side of things, they probably would have spent the majority of the time together gawking at each other with absolutely nothing to say. In those few brief minutes she'd spent with him, though, a snatch of the old Harry she knew at school resurfaced with his obvious uncertainty and gave her a small ray of hope that maybe he hadn't changed as much either. A part of her liked to think that they would've been able to become reacquainted and that they would easily have spent the rest of the time at the party chatting away about anything and everything.

Setting the brush down on the counter with a small clacking noise, she closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. She needed a change of atmosphere, a different train of thought; the beaten pathway her mind was taking would only mar her happiness and satisfaction, as it always did. So she changed her clothes, shouldered her purse, and made her way towards Diagon Alley.

A mug of hot chocolate from Florean Fortescue's seemed to be an appropriate reward for her hard work.

……………………………

"OY! Where do you think you're going?" demanded Ron indignantly as his friend slipped on his cloak.

"Lunch break," Harry replied nonchalantly. "I worked all through today's to give you and Hermione some privacy. I'd expected to see a ring on her finger by now."

Unable to find a proper argument to this, the redhead opened and closed his mouth several times before he finally spoke. "Just see to it that you're back within the hour. And make sure you don't get distracted."

Harry rolled his eyes and said, "I'll be back soon enough."

He nearly ran headlong into a very distracted Hermione as he walked out of the small office.

"Oh! Harry, you're going out to lunch now?" she asked, the faintest blush creeping to her cheeks.

"Yeah," he responded genially, barely lifting an eyebrow as her watched her restlessly shift from foot to foot, an indication that she was up to something. "Need anything from Diagon Alley?"

"No– yes! Come to think of it, one of the girls broke my new quill. Could you possibly go and get me another one? It's just the standard eagle-feather quill that you can find at Flourish and Blotts," Hermione requested, fishing a few coins out of her pocket and handing them to him.

"All right, I'll see to it that you get the best."

"Thanks, Harry." She smiled at him affably before entering the office. He could have sworn that he saw her, as the doors of the lift closed, shrink a large box of files and stick it in her pocket as she looked in both directions, then walked off. If anyone asked him, however, he would say that it had been a trick of the light.

……………………………

Harry strolled at a leisurely pace, pausing every now and then to take a bite out of the sandwich wrapped in plastic and clutched in his gloved hand. Not particularly in the mood for a large lunch, he'd ordered something light from a nearby restaurant, and then Apparated to Diagon Alley to take his time browsing through the shops before he bought Hermione her new quill.

He paused to smile at the usual crowd of children, none of them older than ten, gathered around the display window of Quality Quidditch Supplies.

"Look! Those are the latest flying gloves issued by the Nimbus company. Every league in Europe is planning to make those standard issue for players in the next Quidditch World Cup." The youngster unconsciously puffed out his chest slightly, looking pleased with himself for knowing such an obviously important piece of information.

"I know," replied his friend flippantly, "they're made of real dragon hide, and sewn together with that new sort of string they just discovered how to make– what's it called– erm... Spider's Thread! That's it! Supposed to keep the gloves together longer and make them more aerodynamic."

"Yeah," his mate said, his spirits deflated a bit.

Harry heard no further, but saw them press their faces eagerly to the window glass in a sort of silent awe, making little patches of fog, before he walked on.

The only people at this time of day and year were the occasional stragglers still on their lunch break, and the commonly seen busy housewife running errands, usually with a child on her hip or holding her hand. While this did not mean that Diagon Alley was quiet, by any means, it was certainly different from the bustling chaos surrounding the beginning of the new school term in the fall.

He came to a stop in front of Flourish and Blotts, quickly finished off the rest of his sandwich, and threw away the plastic wrap that had come with it. Pushing open the door, he was immediately greeted in from the cold air with a rush of heat and the crisp smell of new books. An assistant, finishing off the remains of her lunch with who appeared to be her boyfriend, asked Harry in an almost annoyed voice whether he needed any assistance, to which he answered with a shake of his head to signify no. She left it at that, and turned back to her boyfriend; Harry suspected he would be ignored for the rest of his time there.

He took his time strolling up and down the aisles, stopping every now and then when a book caught his eye. Picking out two quills for Hermione from the stationery aisle, he had begun making his way to the front counter to make his purchase when a showy display placed directly underneath the hanging sign labeled "Sports & Games" gripped his attention and made him backtrack a few paces.

**_Quidditch Through the Ages: Eleventh Edition_ **read the curly script on the sign above the pyramid of books, accompanied with various pictures of several popular teams neatly Spellotaped to various parts of the large box atop which the entire display sat.

A faint smile touched Harry's lips as he picked up a glossy copy and he observed that it was a tad heavier than the one he and so many others had borrowed and re-borrowed from the Hogwarts library. How long had it been since the last time he had gotten on a broomstick? He vaguely recalled going to see Wood play at a game a year or so ago, but couldn't remember the last time he himself had played.

He flipped over the book to check for a price and, at the same time, began shuffling his feet towards the front of the store. There was nothing on the back indicating how much it cost, or on the inside jacket flaps. Odd.

He began walking at his usual pace, with long strides.

Could it be that they had simply forgotten to label the books with prices?

Stopping dead in his tracks, he turned around again to replace the copy he had in his hands and to search for another that had a label on it.

He was so engrossed in his thoughts that he never bothered to look up to check for anyone he might literally run into, and he collided headlong into someone, who gave a surprised "oof!" and staggered backwards before falling flat on her back, Harry losing his balance as well and landing on top of her.

Shaking his head and blinking vigorously, he lifted a hand to push his glasses back up—only to find that they were no longer even on his face. Pushing himself up with his elbows, he squinted and could barely make out the features of the face of the woman he had plowed over.

"I'm sorry," he began, flushing in embarrassment as he spoke. "I—I wasn't paying attention to where I was walking."

"Oh, it's… it's all right," the woman assured him, her voice choked and forced, as though she was having difficulty speaking. She cleared her throat loudly, realizing how strained her voice sounded.

"Here—here are your, erm, glasses," she added quietly, gently placing them on the end of his nose and pushing them up to their rightful place.

"Thanks." He opened his eyes, took a good look at her, and found himself fighting down the urge to drop his jaw in surprise.

……………………………

Cho blinked up at Harry in a state of paralyzed shock. Perhaps that was why she couldn't feel her legs… or, no, wait… it was because he was still sprawled on top of her. Any way she looked at it, it was a miracle that she could manage any coherent speech at all.

"I… I…" He seemed to have lost his own ability to speak.

They seemed to lie there on the floor for ages, gaping at each other in disbelief and struggling to find something to say.

…This wasn't quite how she had imagined their next meeting would begin. Then again, it didn't seem very likely that Harry had expected things to happen that way, either.

"Are you all right?" he asked awkwardly.

"Yeah. I—I'm fine." She felt herself color just as brightly as she felt his warm breath brush against her cheek.

Finally seeming to realize what an uncompromising position she was in, he immediately sprang to his feet and held out his hand to help her up as well, which she accepted. She regretted the gesture as soon as she had risen to her feet when her partially numb legs collapsed underneath her. Having no other support to grab hold of, she instinctively reached for Harry, who, with another look of surprise, caught her.

"Can't feel my legs," she muttered, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks.

He relaxed his tensed muscles slightly and gently held her forearms, keeping her from falling.

"I s'pose I should've gotten up sooner," he replied almost shyly with an apologetic smile.

She laughed, despite the awkward circumstances, finding the humor in the situation. Evidently, as he laughed along with her, he did as well.

"Not exactly the best way to run into someone from—from the past, is it?" Cho ventured, voicing both their thoughts.

"Actually running into someone isn't graceful, no matter how you look at it," Harry agreed, grinning.

A tingling sensation ran up and down Cho's legs as her blood flow was restored and she carefully loosened her grasp on his shoulders when she felt that she could stand on her own; he, in turn, released her arms.

"Well," she smiled, smoothing out her beige skirt before putting forth her own hand, "it's nice to see you again, even if we hadn't—didn't exactly start off as gracefully as we'd have liked."

Even as she spoke the words, she felt a rush of different, other underlying meanings flood forth, and she'd almost regretted saying them until she felt him grasp her hand in turn.

"Likewise," he said, looking her directly in the eye.

A part of her hoped against hope that he wasn't only saying that to be polite.

"So, you haven't happened to find one of these"—she held up the copy of _Quidditch Through the Ages_ that she had picked from the pile—"with a price label, have you?"

He shook his head. "That's what I was coming back over here for. I thought I'd check every book before asking the assistant for help."

"As far as I can see, none of these books have any labels on them," she frowned, tucking her copy under her arm and beginning to examine the rest of the pyramid; Harry followed suit.

"Brings back loads of memories, doesn't it?" Cho asked, pausing in her search to run her fingertips over the cover of the book nearest to her hand.

"Yeah."

"I don't think I've even been on a broomstick in… I dunno. Years, probably," she added conversationally, wistfully eyeing the moving photographs.

"Have you still got your Comet?" he inquired, shifting a pile of books for her to grab one they hadn't examined yet.

"Yeah, I think my mum's put it away somewhere in a dark corner of her attic. How 'bout you? Still holding onto your Firebolt?"

"Mm-hm. It's held up pretty well over the years, although I suspect it's lost a bit of its speed and edge for pulling out of sharp dives. I haven't gone flying in forever." He absently flipped through the pages of the copy he'd been checking, then slipped it back into the large arrangement.

"I wonder how long it took the shopkeepers to build this masterpiece," she laughed unexpectedly, gesturing towards the now lopsided pyramid.

"Dunno. Well, at least we're putting the books back where they belong. Sort of," he shrugged, giving a lop-sided smile.

"Sort of," she repeated with another giggle.

"They're lucky we're the ones going through the lot, though, aren't they? I'm sure any young boys doing this would go straight for the bottom books," he smirked.

"I'm sure Draco Malfoy's old goons would do the same thing," she snorted.

"—After they trampled the small children in their way, yeah."

She playfully assumed a knowledgeable and informative stance. "You know, it's highly disputed whether they, in fact, know how to read, or the professors just felt sorry for them and let them pass."

He snorted in response.

"Two words: _Building. Blocks_."

"Excellent material for forts, so I'm told," she smiled, breaking her educational character.

Harry relaxed his face into a simple and stupid expression as he randomly tugged and shoved several books in and out of the pyramid before dropping a few on the ground haphazardly. He dropped to a sitting position on the floor with a dull thud and, between his splayed legs, attempted to prop the books off the ground and against each other by their rounded spines. Frowning when he had no success, he examined his "building blocks" and, seeing that they were indeed intact and in good form, he started again with the same method as before. Deepening his scowl when this still failed, he pretended to give up and let one of his arms swing loosely by his side as he hunched over, lifting the other one to scratch his head in an accurate impression of a monkey, evidently with enough effort to require movement from his entire arm.

Cho clapped a hand over her mouth to keep herself from laughing outright, succeeding only in translating her laughs into snorts; the young woman at the front of the store shot a suspicious look their way before emerging from behind the counter to storm towards them.

"May I _help_ either of you?" she snapped irritably, placing both hands on her hips.

Shooting a meaningful glance at Harry only to find that he wasn't looking her way at the moment, Cho had opened her mouth to speak when she heard him answer first.

"We're fine, just browsing around," he, from his placement on the ground, calmly assured the clerk, who replied by scowling at the misshapen pile that had once been a pyramid of books.

With what appeared to be a great effort, the girl added through clenched teeth, "Take—your—time.'

Then, doing an abrupt about-face, she stomped back to her counter, making small, faintly visible dents in the wooden floor with the points of her high heels.

Harry let his eyes wander to Cho, who had walked over to stand beside him.

"Very misunderstood and lost art, fort-building is," he informed her sadly, shaking his head, to which she answered with a full-out peal of laughter.

He wondered to himself if the sandwich he had just consumed had something more in it than what its maker claimed it was composed of. Much to his surprise, though, he found that it was a nice change to make a fool of himself… at least there were no waterworks this time. Both of them were grateful for that.

"Such a shame. And you have such a knack for the art as well," she grinned, sitting down beside him.

"Perhaps sometime I'll show you how to master it as well," he nodded solemnly.

"Perhaps."

"Next week, maybe?" he found himself saying before he could think over the words issuing from his mouth.

Taken off guard, she paused a moment before replying, "I'm free on Sunday."

He seemed just as surprised to receive an answer as she was in giving it. "That works for me. Meet you at… ten in the morning next Sunday?"

"That sounds nice. Where, here?" she joked.

"If you'd like," he responded, raising an eyebrow slightly and smiling.

"Seriously, you want to meet here?" she asked, tilting her head to the side as she looked at him meaningfully.

"It's fine with me," he shrugged.

"All right. We'll have a contest once you've taught me the basics of fort-building. Loser buys lunch," she proposed, a mischievously challenging look crossing her face.

"Deal," he agreed with a laugh, shaking her hand.

Both decided, although it was left unsaid, that they were quickly becoming accustomed to the element of surprise, and it definitely was not an unpleasant acquaintance.

The only question that remained was the exact effects of this fresh start. Instead of naming all the what-ifs and possibilities in their minds, however, they knew that they would be sure to discover that for themselves the next Sunday.

There never seemed to be a longer week and a half in existence.

…………………………

A/N: Thank you, my lovely, lovely reviewers for not deserting me. At least, I hope you haven't. It's been an extremely rough year for me, and I'd appreciate not hearing about how late I am in updating, as it only adds to my guilt and agony. For a full list of excuses as well as review responses be sure to go to my livejournal (although that might have to wait a little while as well. Just be sure to review this time around, and I'll be sure to give responses to your reviews from chapter 10). My user name is unicorn13. Sweet. Simple. Just like leaving a review. And please be sure to leave one on here, although comments on my journal are welcome as well. This chapter has been written late at night, so please inform me of any mistakes I've made. Don't flame, _politely_ point out, mind you. Oh, and I'm thinking of taking on a Beta reader or three. Anyone interested? I'd especially like a British Beta so that he/she can Britpick for me. Anyway, go on! Go review. Give this tired authoress the happiness that only reviews can bring.

Oh, and if you get the time, check out onoM and Mujakix's fics. They're awesome. Anyone else who'd like me to recommend them just has to ask and I'd be more than happy to advertise your fic(s). Yeah.

And onoM? I will get around to r/r your fic sometime. I _will_. In the meantime, have cyber-cookies; I give you a boxful. And just out of curiosity, how do you get those nice section dividers on your chapters? My long period thingies keep disappearing on me.

Unicorn13


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